"That sinking feeling in your gut, I feel it too. I think we all do.
Almost all of us have been to summer camp. Or dropped our kids at summer camp. Or both. And in a world where it feels like nothing stays the same, summer camp remains one of the last vestiges of yesteryear.
Waking up to the sounds of a clanging bell. The crafts, the pranks, the songs, the campfires, the hikes, the stars, the dining hall, and the strangers who become fast friends unreasonably quickly. You're probably smiling as you read like I am while writing. That's what camp does.
Camp is a magical place. A place that induces a feeling of awe or wonder beyond our understanding. That's one of the definitions of mystic by the way. Fitting.
And so now we find ourselves holding our own tender camp memories in one hand while simultaneously grieving for the families and children who are suffering this weekend in the worst way imaginable. We grieve that a magical place so quickly became one of pain, uncertainty, and loss for so many. Lives changed forever.
We feel it in our guts because we care. Because it makes us grapple with how little control we have. With how fragile life really is. With how little that we fret and fuss about really matters in the end.
This camp was our camp. These kids were our kids. These parents are each one of us.
We can’t fix this.
But we can feel it.
So we hold our breath.
We hold each other.
We hold on.
And we hope with everything we’ve got.
Because some days, that’s all there is." CHRIS FIELDS
