There Once was a Camper

There once was a camper. 

And I love her. She was old, she was blind, she had to be woken up once an hour all night every night to use the restroom, she once said the f-word to me in the middle of the lake and then said, "Jesus probably didn't approve very much of that one." She made beaded necklaces for everyone and gave them to anyone, regardless of whether or not she knew them, she walked slowly and needed to be golf-carted to most places, she wore long pants in 90-degree (or more) heat, she said "hot dog!" when anyone told her something exciting, she sang hymns while walking even if no one was listening, but usually people were. And she loved Camp.

She is older than my grandparents. And now she's too old to come back to Camp. She came to Camp consistently and dependably for forty-plus years. My boss cried when she found out and then when I found out, I cried too while we just sat together. 

I was worried about what I was going to do without her. I've had her cabin twice before and I was with them again this week, which was wonderful because they make every day the best day. But I was afraid that, since she was so special to Camp and for so long, it would not be the same without her. And it wasn't. It was different, just as every year is. But it was great.

As my mama says, all good things must come to an end. Even the best things. 

And just because it must end does not mean that it was not good, because it was. But now she must stay where she is and I'll stay where I am, which is hard because where I am is where we used to be together with joy. I am here without her and my heart is sad. 

No one is like her and I love her with all my heart. Knowing and having to articulate the harsh, unpleasant truth that I will likely never see her face again, never see her lick her lips, never hear her call, "Em'ly" in the middle of the night even though I'm not Emily, I'm Laura, is very hard or me to do. It hurts my heart ever to lost contact with a friend, especially if it is one who helped sculpt me as a person. She is one of the most spectacular people with whom I have ever made acquaintance. 

So I will remember her. I will remember what her singing voice sounded like, I will remember the sock monkey she slept with, I will remember her dark blue eyes. I will look back fondly on my old friend while moving forward, because Camp is fluid. I want so badly for her to come back and for everything to be just like it used to be, but that's not how life works. Life moves forward and fast, and events cannot be repeated. I get to experience new days with different people, but because I knew her I am now a little bit, if even just the tiniest bit, altered as a person. And for that I am thankful. 

Love,
Lauralicious