I found this beautiful post the other day on BlogHer Moms and it almost brought me to tears. Not because I can relate to lemead’s summer camp experiences on Cape Cod, but because I, too, look back on my childhood summers with such aching fondness. The long days of play, hearing the cicadas and crickets on hot summer nights (i hate bugs, but that sound always takes me back), the hours my sisters and I would spend making up languages and forts and engaging in general make believe, the utter lack of responsibility save putting away toys at day’s end, and an overall age of blissful innocence that only children know.
My sisters and I never went to summer camp, but we did have Canada. And I wouldn’t swap those 2 for anything. When we were younger there were years when we were able to spend a good couple weeks up on the island, and it was pure heaven for us. For during those long stays we usually overlapped with my mom’s entire family, spending days and nights on end with our grandparents and all of our aunts, uncles, and cousins, some of whom we never saw except up there. We held countless diving contests off the dock, swam in and across the lake (but not through the seaweed, ew!), made treasure maps and turned the island into our own coded little world, read stacks of old comic books, set up tents and “camped” in various spots on the island, had water fights, made up songs, played endless games of cards and Scrabble and bingo, listened to old-time records every night at cocktail hour (one of my favorite traditions that still lives on), roasted bags of marshmallows and popped nightly bowls of popcorn, awoke each morning to the smell of bacon and a fire in the wood-burning stove in the kitchen, and fell asleep in the loft each night listening to the grown ups reminiscing about when they were our age and always trying to sneak peeks through the blankets over the railing hoping we wouldn’t get caught and forced back into bed. They were the best days of our lives, and the countdowns to the next summer’s trip usually began on the way home. I still get butterflies of excitement the night before each trip to Little Pine Isle.
Canada has always been a family place for us, though, unlike a summer camp full of outside friends. Not that others aren’t welcome, by any means. And some groups of family do take friends when they go, when there’s room enough without too many other family members already there at the same time. I think this is kind of what made it special for us, too. We bonded so strongly with our family when we were up there and loved spending that time with them. What could be more fun for kids than playing with their aunts and uncles who always gave in and let them get away with stuff that their parents never would? Granted, as we’ve all gotten older (and bigger) it is kind of nice when the island isn’t crammed full of people anymore, but as kids it was wonderful.
Much like lemead’s summer camp, our island is littered with these boundless memories and happy ghosts from our pasts. And now I am thrilled to be able to take D there and let her create her own lifetime of memories as well. She only has 1 cousin right now, but I know they’ll be joined by many more and will probably explore every nook and cranny and play every island game imaginable, just as we did. Now we will be the adults in the living room reminiscing each night while they try to put off sleep as long as possible up in the loft. And I hope she falls as deeply in love with the place as we have and makes boatloads of memories there with her own children and their children someday, too.
p.s. totally unrelated, but i wanted to get my run stats from this week down. tuesday i ran 3.57 miles in 31:41 for a 8:51 pace, and last night i ran 2.86 miles in 24:04 for a 8:25 pace. my time from last night is only 4 seconds off my fastest time ever for that particular route, so i was pleased. both runs felt pretty awful, but i was very happy i got more than 1 in this week.