My feet went numb long ago, probably around the second hour of balancing on them. My twin, Alyssa, and I were sitting in our sister’s bathroom, watching her carefully fold clothes, put them in plastic bags, and then try to suck all the air out of the bags to compress them as much as possible. Savannah had been going to summer camp at Geneva Glen since long before I was born; this was just the first time I remember her packing to leave for two weeks. When she seemed satisfied with a plastic bag, she’d hold out her hand, and I’d hand her a Sharpie, which she’d use to carefully scrawl out the bag’s contents; then, Alyssa would put the bag in her big purple trunk, covered in peeling stickers and faded drawings and signatures collected over the many summers she’d spent at camp. 

The next day, my family packed up our truck with Savannah’s things, and we drove her ten minutes up into the foothills, to Geneva Glen. My parents waited in line at the top of the lodge to figure out which cabin she was in, while Savannah took Alyssa and me by the hand and ran around with us to find all her friends, most of whom she hadn’t seen in a year. We’d get Savannah all settled into her cabin, hug her goodbye, and then leave. Two weeks later, we’d go to pick her up, and every time, she seemed like a new person. I always knew we would go to Geneva Glen, too, when we got older. I just never considered how much it would change me. 

After I turned 13, I went to my first session at Geneva Glen Camp. Savannah was the most excited out of our family, which probably helped ease Alyssa and I’s nerves about it. Despite Savannah going every summer until she aged out, and my house being a short drive away, we still wouldn’t be able to communicate with our parents, except through letters. My mother requested that Alyssa and I be put in separate Cabins. She said she didn’t want us only hanging out together, and not making friends. When my parents left, I sat in my Cabin, watching girls stream in. I didn’t know how to start a conversation with anyone. Luckily, a girl named Beth invited the girls to sit on her bed and choose from the bracelets she had made beforehand. That gesture made me fall in love with camp right away.

Every child should have a similar camp experience away from their parent’s influence when they start to go through puberty. Many people have their doubts about stayaway camp, especially one that spans multiple weeks, and accepts children as young as 5 years old. When I try to explain my camp experience to friends, they wrinkle their noses, and start going on about how, “Oh, I could never go two weeks without my phone. And only being allowed to shower twice a week? That’s beyond disgusting!”. I struggle to tell them that, there, no one cares. At Geneva Glen, everyone’s sunburnt, peeling skin is sporting a dirt tan. Knotted, messy ponytails are all the rage, ripped jeans with stained shirts are more fashionable than any designer brand. Perhaps, the reason I loved camp so much, was because I could be so careless for two weeks, and nobody would judge me for it. I could show up to dinner covered in pine sap, and smelling of sunscreen, bug spray, and sweat, and my friends would simply ask me what team I hoped to be on for Evening Play. Despite the air constantly filled with the sound of chirping birds, barking dogs, screaming children, and laughter, I have yet to experience a more peaceful scene. Running to the Counselor Ring before announcements started, I would have to be careful not to trip over an exposed or unstable root. The Counselor Ring was one of the most sacred places of Geneva Glen. The camp would meet there at least three times a day. The wood, despite being unpolished, became smooth from years of being exposed to the elements and sat on and swept clean. Even if there wasn’t a blazing fire, I could still feel the heat radiating from the small hearth that sat in the middle. The wood beams making up the ring trapped the smell of campfire smoke. Here, we would hear stories about Native American tribes, sing songs, put on skits, listen to announcements, and so much more. Here, you’d wrinkle your nose at the boys, who didn’t try to hide their stink with deodorant or body spray. Here, you’d laugh until your jaw hurt, sing until your tongue was dry, sit until you dozed off, or cry until your stomach ached. The Counselor Ring hosted the spirit of Geneva Glen. 

My last summer at Geneva Glen is the one I hold most dear to my heart. At that point, I had become pretty familiar with what to expect, how to pack and prepare. I already had quite a few friends from previous years, and I wanted to make the most of it before I aged out, and could no longer attend as a camper. I didn’t try to become a trainee, or apply to be a counselor. Camp grew to be a special place to me, and I didn’t want it to become a “job”. Even if I hadn’t tried, my last session would have still been the most special. My last session taught me the most. I grew some, but I outgrew some more. I had close friends, but I built stronger relationships with new faces. I craved something new, but I spent most of my time reflecting on the past. I had already been taught lessons about the past, but I learned about the future. It wasn’t until my last summer at camp that Geneva Glen’s slogan “Cherishing the Past, Nurturing the Present, Seeding the Future” made sense to me. While Geneva Glen served as a fun summer camp, filled with your usual summer camp activities, plus some new ones, it was also meant to be a place of learning. It wanted to bring people in, and send them out with new values, being changed for the better. It wanted people to come together, and then go out and try to spread its message of love and togetherness. The Spiral Ceremony was a “secret” meeting of all the Senior girls, or all the girls aged 13 and older, including those girls’ counselors. While the whole camp knew when Spiral Ceremony occurred, only those included knew what went on. Counselors shared their stories of pain and struggle and loss. They shared their stories about losing a loved one to illness, accidental death, or even suicide. They shared their stories about being in an abusive relationship, watching a loved one endure an abusive relationship, or going through some other traumatic life-changing experience. There was never a single dry eye at the Spiral Ceremony. After counselors shared, we were then split into random groups with girls we didn’t otherwise know, and we then shared out own stories. Girls that I judged before for seeming weird shared their darkest secrets and sobbed into their hands. And the group always cried with them. Although Spiral was filled with tears and heartbreaking stories, the intended idea wasn’t sorrowful. It brought us together. We learned that we are never alone, and there’s always someone with a similar experience to ours to help. Even if there isn't someone with a similar experience, there’s a group of people standing by you, willing to listen to you rant and rave and cry, and then prepared to wipe away your tears and tell you, “I hear you. I’m with you. Everything is going to be okay.”. 

Geneva Glen taught me to have an open mind. If there was a dish I wouldn’t eat, camp would leave me too hungry to turn it away at mealtimes. If there was a sport I found boring, camp would send me out looking for a club team to play it with. If there was someone I didn’t like or found annoying, camp brought us together, and we’d end up exchanging emails back and forth for years to keep in touch. Camp taught me to give everyone and everything a chance. I learned there that, even if someone is there as a “counselor”, they might end up being one of your closest friends. I learned that everyone has experienced pain and hurt and loss and that you are never alone. I learned independence, patience, wisdom, and forgiveness. I learned to cherish the small things because you never know when they’ll be ripped from you. Camp taught me how exciting it is to let go of fear and jump into the unknown.