Band camp.

The first thing everyone thinks of is a massive amount of work, hot muggy weather, and drill instructors from hell.  In a sense that was correct, but they missed out on the little things that not many people catch.  Matress surfing, hanging out on the front porch and just talking with friends at 1:00 in the morning, duct taping someone to their bed and then beating them with a pillow, playing with the tapioca pudding in the dining hall, marching in the rain, running sectionals with Mr. Goff, goofing off with my fellow section leaders, and the list goes on.

Everyone wants me to describe senior vespers, but it just doesn't work. It's not something to be described, but something to be experienced.  If I described it in words, it would be corny, sappy, and stupid, but in experience, it has substance and spirit.  Everyone seemed to be able to connect better that night, no longer were there vendettas and enemies, only brothers and sisters, lovers and friends.  A lot of things wen through my head that night, and I think some of them, I'll never quite get sorted out, but whatever it was, it felt good.

But now it feels so strange to be back.  Saturday morning I woke up in my own bed in my own room with no drummers banging their drums on the porch, no Ben and Chris jabbering on, no Joe cracking random jokes, and no duct tape on my sleeping bag.  I felt almost lonely that morning, knowing that it was the last time I'd be at camp with my friends, sharing communal living space and just goofing off and having a good time.

It feels good to move on, but in a way it was kind of sad.  Some of the happiest memories of my life came from camp.  I don't think any of us will ever really forget it.