Tonight, walking home with two friends from book club where we had discussed the theme of memory in great detail, my friend pointed out this incredible spider's web.
The picture doesn't really do it justice, but it was amazing. Without really thinking, I began singing, "It's a web like a spider's web, made of silk and light and shadow, spun by the moon in my room at night..." under my breath. That same friend turned to me, and said, "Camp song?"
In that moment, I was struck by two things. One, that all my friends (regardless of whether or not they attended my camp) know how huge camp looms in my life, and two, that somewhere in my brain I have stored countless camp songs.
At my camp, there is quite a great deal of singing. That may be the understatement of the word. We sing at meals, at assembly, at campfires...and even though I have not attended or worked at camp in eight years, I can sing almost any camp song on command.
I suppose some memories just never fade.
The picture doesn't really do it justice, but it was amazing. Without really thinking, I began singing, "It's a web like a spider's web, made of silk and light and shadow, spun by the moon in my room at night..." under my breath. That same friend turned to me, and said, "Camp song?"
In that moment, I was struck by two things. One, that all my friends (regardless of whether or not they attended my camp) know how huge camp looms in my life, and two, that somewhere in my brain I have stored countless camp songs.
At my camp, there is quite a great deal of singing. That may be the understatement of the word. We sing at meals, at assembly, at campfires...and even though I have not attended or worked at camp in eight years, I can sing almost any camp song on command.
I suppose some memories just never fade.
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