13 Years Ago

15 Jun

13 years ago, I was a socially awkward 13-year-old girl in a hotel room just outside of Asheville, North Carolina.  I was on my way to summer camp for two weeks.  I’d been to sleepaway camp before, every year since I was 7 in fact, but this was the first time I was going to a camp out-of-state.

13 years ago, I had just gotten a call from my dad telling me that my half-sister had been born.  It would be six weeks before I would meet her, and she’d throw up on me the first time I held her (We got past that first rocky start though.  Btw, happy 13th birthday Lindsey).

13 years ago, I had no idea that the place I was heading to would turn out to be the defining place of my life.  All I knew was that I’d seen it on TV, and I didn’t want to spend another summer at girl scout camp.  I wanted a camp where I could learn to shoot a bow and arrow, climb a rock wall, swim in a lake, and do it all without anyone knowing who I was.

13 years ago, I lived in the shadow of my family- my mathematical genius older brother, my compassionate elementary counselor mother, and my personable younger brother.  I didn’t share their aptitudes, and I certainly didn’t feel like I ever fit in. This summer camp was my way to figure out who I was on my own terms, without my last name preceding me.

13 years ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I spent a total of 7 years at Camp Highlander, starting as a camper and working my way up from counselor-in-training, to barn staff for the riding program, to certified lifeguard and founder of the camp swim team (Highlander Hammerheads forever!).  There were rocky years, such as my first year when I wrote my mother every day asking her to come and take me home (she didn’t), and my last year when my graduate school admission was botched and I had to leave two weeks early to try to sort it out (I couldn’t, and it turned out to be a blessing in disguise for my academics, but that’s a different story).  However, the good times far outweighed the bad.

The memories that I made, the friendships that I formed, and the lessons about life that I learned over those seven years on Old Forge Mountain have made me into the person that I am today.  I told a boy that I liked him for the first time at camp.  I cared for a newborn foal and mourned the loss of another.  I told bedtime stories about a giant pickle in a grocery store to a cabin of 6-year-olds who are now leading cabins of their own.  I learned a lot about the songs of Van Morrison and The Beatles while sitting around a campfire, and how to dance to Kenny Loggins’ “Footloose” in a hand-built wooden gymnasium.  But most of all, I learned who I am.

I have grown out of my social anxieties, discovered my own strengths, and yes, even learned how to shoot a bow and arrow (thank you, Terry, for never giving up on a more-than-slightly dangerous left-handed archer, even as the rest of my cabin cowered behind the benches).  I am comfortable with who I am (most of the time, at least), and I know I wouldn’t have gotten here without those summers on the mountain.  Even though I find myself stuck in Georgia every summer now because of the demands of a grown-up full time job, I carry a piece of Highlander with me every day.  A song on the radio, a sunny day with a breeze, even the sound of kids playing in a swimming pool can take me back to those summers in a heartbeat.

13 years ago, and every summer since, my heart goes just north of Asheville, to a camp that’s been sitting literally on the side of a mountain since 1946.  And I could not think of a better way to spend my time.


Toss in your two cents

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: