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And the sound of outdated music at way too early in the morning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