Final night at an American summer camp
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The sun has set. The temperature is dropping. The campers are silent. We walk together, in darkness, down to the lake united by the Kenwood spirit. It’s the last night of camp. For some younger campers, the end is only temporary until next year; but for my bunk, the eldest, this is our last silent pilgrimage down to the lake. As you can imagine, many eyes are filled with tears. Many of the kids have returned to this camp year after year and see it as their summer home. Even though I have only been here for four weeks and my experience is different as a counsellor, I share some of their sadness that is is all coming to an end. Being at camp is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Soon enough the lake comes into view. It’s still and calm – unlike during the day when it’s filled with campers canoeing, swimming, paddle boarding, water-skiing or sailing. At the shoreline, we are instructed to take a candle and write a memory onto it. So many memories: good and bad. I remind myself of the time the bunk created the Jason Derulo go-kart, learning songs at campfires, riding many roller coasters at Six Nations, playing capture the flag at Camplified, the millions of s’mores made at Pioneering, the massive rope burn during Colour War (as well as the breakout for Colour War), DJ Fresh (for which there are no words…) and of course endless singing! Finally, I decide on a favourite memory.
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