Last year, the first summer I didn’t go to camp since the ’90s (literally), I had a few moments of sadness. But I also busied myself with preparing for grad school and moving. Over the year, I sometimes became overwhelmed with Bravo memories – both making me want to laugh and cry. But this year seems more difficult for some reason. I don’t have new distractions to keep my mind from thinking that again I won’t be going up the mountain. It’s June, I didn’t go to the Bravo meeting, I am not going up the mountain.
I know for the non-Bravoites reading this post, my attachment to a summer camp might seem odd. However, Bravo truly was a home away from home. Whenever I walked those paths, entered the cabins, heard high school students singing musicals (or “Buttercup”) and reciting Shakespeare, I felt at home. I walked the paths without flashlights for years, believed Cabin 2 was haunted, escaped into Craig’s cabin, danced to Chicago in the lodge, sang Bohemian Rhapsody at dinner, divided and conquered at the costume dances, made my campers promise “no Bravo babies”, and participated in the best scavenger hunt of my life up that mountain. And I miss it soo much. I still can’t seem to wrap my mind around the fact that I’m not going to pack up my bags, drive 2 and 1/2 hours, and settle into a cabin with drawings of rugs painted on the floor.
One of my friends posted a sweet Bravo reference on Facebook today (and yes, Matt I will go waltzing Matilda with you anytime) and it just about broke my heart. I don’t write this to make anyone feel sad. I write it because I am filled with Bravo memories. Despite how sad I am to not be at Bravo any longer, I am so thankful for those memories… and for my fellow Bravo Kids.