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They say memories fade with time

But I don’t think so

because the weeks I spend

riding, swimming, talking, walking,

petting, reading, playing and dreaming

Here. Right here.

Those memories are as deep and crisp as the taste of a way too juicy watermelon at Outpost

And the smell of fur and feathers at smanimals

And the chunka, chunka, chunka of a kneeboard at the lake

And the sound of outdated music at way too early in the morning

and the sight of all the counselors, campers, of all my friends, dressed in grass skirts and

leis and lipstick, even the boys.

Here. Right here.

Those memories are as dear to me as

a cherished book of song.

Because I know that no matter how

tired, sore, or terrified I am,

I have not wasted a second of my life

Here. Right here.

-Grace Daverson

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