Camp Seafarer For Girls: A Short Story
For most people, there is a bubble in which they feel safe. There is a bubble that surrounds them and their loved ones and inside that bubble, nothing terrible can happen. For me, that bubble is Camp Seafarer for Girls-- well, it is most of the time. I’ll get tell you that story later, first, I’m going to tell you a little about this place I call home.
It’s June 20, the Saturday before Father’s Day, 2009. My mom has packed my sister and me each duffle bags full of outfits in ziploc bags sorted by day to last us our first five days away from home and her. We pile into the car, trying to fit ourselves around the duffle bags and settle in for the three-hour drive to a hotel in Havelock to stay the night. Once we arrive at the hotel and see …show more content…
When you drive through the gates, just keep following the signs.” The woman said. Once we pulled through those gates, I knew that I was home. A girl from my cabin came over to talk to me, “Hi, I’m CC. What’s your name?” I was so excited to be at camp that I stumbled across pronouncing my own name, “My name is S-S-Sayer. Where are you from?” “I live in Charlotte!” CC says, smiling a mega-watt smile. CC and I take the IT bus, a small bus with PVC pipes over the top that spray water on riders on hot days, over to the Near Side, the side with all of the Sea activities, where we would spend most of the activity period at Creative Arts making perler bead bracelets and barrettes. Once those five days were over, I didn’t want to leave, my sister and I were the last ones of our friends to get picked up and we didn’t mind because we never wanted to leave. When we got in the car, we asked our dad if we could go back for the two-week session that would start the following Sunday. Over the school year, CC and I talked on the phone every night. I had her home phone number memorized after about a week. There were some days when we would talk multiple times a day. That’s how I am with camp friends, they’re my best friends, I talk to them all the time but sometimes it gets to the point that I pull away from my friends at
It’s June 20, the Saturday before Father’s Day, 2009. My mom has packed my sister and me each duffle bags full of outfits in ziploc bags sorted by day to last us our first five days away from home and her. We pile into the car, trying to fit ourselves around the duffle bags and settle in for the three-hour drive to a hotel in Havelock to stay the night. Once we arrive at the hotel and see …show more content…
When you drive through the gates, just keep following the signs.” The woman said. Once we pulled through those gates, I knew that I was home. A girl from my cabin came over to talk to me, “Hi, I’m CC. What’s your name?” I was so excited to be at camp that I stumbled across pronouncing my own name, “My name is S-S-Sayer. Where are you from?” “I live in Charlotte!” CC says, smiling a mega-watt smile. CC and I take the IT bus, a small bus with PVC pipes over the top that spray water on riders on hot days, over to the Near Side, the side with all of the Sea activities, where we would spend most of the activity period at Creative Arts making perler bead bracelets and barrettes. Once those five days were over, I didn’t want to leave, my sister and I were the last ones of our friends to get picked up and we didn’t mind because we never wanted to leave. When we got in the car, we asked our dad if we could go back for the two-week session that would start the following Sunday. Over the school year, CC and I talked on the phone every night. I had her home phone number memorized after about a week. There were some days when we would talk multiple times a day. That’s how I am with camp friends, they’re my best friends, I talk to them all the time but sometimes it gets to the point that I pull away from my friends at