What Does Mystic Lake Mean To You?
Mystic Lake asked one of our current staff members what it means to be a part of our Mystic Family. She shared with us her Mystic experiences of being a part of our staff.
Camp is summertime and blue skies and sunshine. Camp is a
lake all to yourself. Camp is coming back as a staff member after four years
away and not knowing what’s in store.
Maybe on the
first day of staff training, everybody else seems so close, and you have no
idea how you’ll fit in. Maybe this wasn’t even your first choice for the summer
and you’re a little disappointed that you didn’t get that internship in D.C.
that you wanted.
But
everything happens for a reason. Just you wait and see.
Because that
curly-haired redhead will become one of the best friends that you’ve ever made.
In fact, they all will. And all of these first impressions that you make of
people so that you can try and figure it all out – they won’t matter. You’ll
realize that who a person is isn’t defined by where they come from and who they
were or what they’ve done. You’ll never imagine having a boss that you’ll look
up to as much as the one you have here, and even the staff in the kitchen will
end up as your family.
Because you
can see more stars out here than most other place you’ve been. And you’ll look
up at them – from the athletic field, from the waterfront, from paddleboards,
from the top of the rock wall – so many nights, talking about life and time and
the universe and things that matter. You’ll go stargazing with your cabin and
every one of your girls will make a wish on a shooting star that makes your
heart melt.
Because a
seven-year-old will wake you up at one in the morning when she had a bad dream,
and you’ll rub her back and read her a story and she’ll end up falling asleep
on your shoulder. A ten-year-old will say some of the wisest things you’ve ever
heard. After a round of makeovers, one of your campers will tell you, “You look
like you belong on the cover of a magazine, but you were even more beautiful
before.” Girls will cry on your shoulder or even in group hugs when the week
ends and it’s time to say goodbye, and every single Friday night, during the
closing ceremony and slideshow, you’ll have to excuse yourself to the bathroom
because in one week, so much magic can happen.
You
will explore every corner of that lake from every angle. Lifeguard training in
the rain. Kayaking the outskirts. Jumping off of the pontoon. Getting up early
every Friday morning to swim across to the docks on the opposite side with two
of your closest friends. Hiking around the lake and learning all of the trails,
or cantering down them with horses and learning how to fly. You’ll find Lost
Lake and it will be the most serene moment you’ve ever experienced. You’ll do
yoga on the boat docks and never want to leave. You’ll pick fresh raspberries
out by the barn with your campers and your taste buds will forever thank you.
Because
those twenty-four hours off every weekend are precious. You’ll go paddle
boarding and learn more about beautiful people. You’ll take road trips to Lake
Michigan. You’ll go to a real restaurant in actual human civilization and
forget that you don’t have to scrape and stack after the meal is over and you can,
indeed, put your elbows on the table without the fear of a camper or coworker
chanting at you to run around the table.
Because
you’ll use every bit of free time you have to plan and prepare the best
activities possible for your campers. You’ll stay up way too late at the end of
every week, writing them letters about how wonderful they each are and how much
they’re going to change the world. You’ll ride out to get ice cream with your
bikers every Friday morning. You’ll sprint across camp multiple times preparing
a cardboard, spray painted dragon costume that will be destroyed in less than an
hour. And it will all be worth it, just so that you can see your campers
laughing and hugging and dancing and having the time of their lives. You’ll
watch groups of girls that you never thought would connect understand each
other and still become the best of friends.
Because you
will keep every picture from every week. Because the wax from the candles you
hold during closing ceremony will drip onto your hand, but you wouldn’t blow it
out or drop it for anything. Your cabin letters at the end of the week
will have a million scribbles and revisions all over them, so that they can be
perfect. Because you miss people who will sing camp songs with you at every
moment you think of one – and there is one to think of during almost every
moment. Because you kept the collection of string bracelets your campers made
for you around your wrist for months until they started fraying and falling
off. Because when you’re stressed out, the only place you’ll want to be is Pine
Point. Because you will remember every word of the Dr. Seuss book you read to
your campers on the last night every week. Because there will come a point
later on when you will forget that there is a world where you don’t need cell phones
or makeup. The world is waiting and the best things in it are free. You can
laugh as loud as you want and be whoever you are.
When you go
back, you will remember. That world exists. That world is camp. It is, and
always will be, home.
