A Counselor's Camper Anonymous

As I drove up to Maine, I knew exactly where I was going, but I did not know what to expect. I was to spend my eighth summer at Wyonegonic Camps, but for the first time as an Assistant Counselor (AC). I had first arrived there as a nervous nine-year-old camper; now I arrived as an even more nervous seventeen-year-old staff member. Each summer spent at Wyo gave me new perspectives into the meaningful role a counselor plays to the camper. Little did I know that a camper could affect a counselor in the same way.

I was assigned to the duplex of Cabins 3 and 4. Full of energy, love, and flashing white smiles, all twelve of these eleven-year-old girls made me laugh, rode on my back, and warmly embraced me time and again. One girl in particular, however, gave me a new sense of responsibility. Clara, the smallest of the bunch, hardly spoke during the first week. She always smiled and laughed with the group, however, and before long I somehow always found her holding my hand or catapulting into me for a hug. You could say that Clara was the cutest, with her big brown eyes, flowing hair, and intoxicating giggle, but each girl had her own qualities, which made it impossible to pick a favorite.

The most meaningful night of the summer took...