Through A Camper's Eyes Rachel Fitzgerald

“Come on, place your bet. There is already 20 bucks on MESME.”

No, this is not about the conquering of a gambling addiction but rather my story of a life-changing summer at a girl’s overnight camp and the bitter-sweet taste of responsibility. I spent many summers there as a camper, swimming, crafting, and horseback riding. My best childhood memories have Camp Wabasso as their stage. I have stargazed in the middle of the night, had late-night bonding sessions with girls that became as close to me as sisters, survived nightmare trail-rides, and experienced the worst storms I have ever seen. Coming back year after year for nine summers, there are quite a few of us returning girls. We have made ourselves a summer family, a summer home, and we have our own little niche in the world. Some people dance their whole lives, and call themselves dancers. Others make music and call themselves musicians. I have always been to camp, so I’m proud to call myself a camper.

The joys cannot last forever, however. It ended at 15 years old when the counselor-in-training program began and was followed by the internship program. Essentially, a CIT is defined as simply as a camper that does not need have a bathroom buddy at night and can bring a cell...