The other day I wake up and the air is exactly that air of camp when you first wake up in the morning.
There’s nothing like this air.
This air is the car ride up to the mountains snuggled in the backseat while my parents sit up front. A trunk packed with labeled clothes and treats. Towels that would be thrown out bathing suits that stay on the line outside the bunk in the rain until they blow away. Bats in the rafters and flashlights after hours under the covers. The lake the rowboats the lily pads the paddles get stuck in. Hikes through cornfields.
Growing from a child to a teenager.
Every school year seemed only a tunnel that led to these times.
There are other memories in life as well.
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