Roots

Love: noun. A intense feeling of affection for another person.
Harmony: noun. Agreement; combination of musical notes to make a chord.
Camp: noun. Form of lodging in a tent or cabin.
Love, Harmony and Camp. 

Three words. 

Three very simple words. 

I live my life by them. This trifecta of nouns makes up my life.  Love because I believe everybody should be loved and have the right to love. Harmony because my inner-hippie makes me wish there could be world peace among us humans, though I acknowledge, sadly, that world peace is not possible. Lastly ( but clicheily not least) Camp. 

 That word brings to mind a slideshow of pictures, of memories and people. Robin flashes through my head, the horse corral, getting food for everybody because I lost the chug war. 

Being an army brat, I've never been very sure of anything. At some points even questioning what my family will be like in the future. When ever people ask me about my hometown I would stare at them blankly and just say the place I just moved from. Around 5th grade that changed though. In the summer of '05 I went to my first summer at Camp or well, first week of Camp. Both my father and Uncle went to Camp Collins when they were younger and I was excited to go to a summer camp. That first week would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I came home singing ridiculous songs about hippos and elephants and a manic bunny that I wouldn't allow in my row boat. My first counselor was Bubbles. Appropriately named because she could blow bubbles off her tongue. (A trick I am still trying to figure out.) She was and I'm sure she still is, a beautiful soul. Maybe my 3rd day of camp I had a nightmare and ended up at the side of her bed. She asked me what was wrong and then gave me a huge pillow that she used to sleep with when she had nightmares. She tied my first Rag. A Rag is an outward symbol of an inward goal.

Eight years later I don't remember what my goal was, but I know this for sure: As my mother drove away from the Camp parking lot at the end of that week, I knew that I would be going back. Luckily for me I did. Seven times. Camp as been the only sure thing in my life, and without it I would not be same person I am today.