Dear Friends, Dear Friends.

Last night I went to a camp reunion. This morning I woke up to a beautiful, improvisational piece on the piano. A close friend who I fell asleep next to was in my arms, and another close friend on my other side. Snow outside, then the music from the piano transformed into my favorite song, and voices from around the room sang along. Still in that wonderful, just-woke-up-still-in-a-fetal-position-and-warm-and-cozy place, someone offered me yummy chocolate cake. Cut to an hour or so later, dance parties, more cuddling. Cut to another hour later, 40 of my dearest friends singing a short chant 17 times in a row, first embracing the moment, then louder, add beat boxing and dancing. Quaker tunes never sounded so good.

I realized over the weekend that most of the people I'm really close to at camp are on staff. They're not really authority figures, they're not actually much different that campers at all. It's not weird that they're older than me, it's just kind of weird that I can be so comfortable and close with people that age at camp, when in the real world people that age are my teachers and doctors. I can't imagine having a relationship like that with my teachers, but the staffers are a different story. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.

I feel silly and wonderful. I like dancing, regardless of whether or not there's music. I like sledding down steep icy hills, over snowbanks, and into trees. I like downing bowlfuls of caffeinated tea. I like vegan sloppy joes. I like cuddling. I like those knitted granny square blankets with holes in them. I like how in real life, you can be happy, but there's always a little bit of stress or sleepiness or some moral dilemmas poking around in the back of your brain, but at camp, you can just be happy, nothing else. And it's that simple.

"Every person here is beautiful and wonderful"