Today I sat on the dock of Silver Lake Camp reflecting on the countless hours I have spent in that same spot yelling at children, talking with Krista, dipping my toes in the water to prevent overheating. I sat on the dock and stared at the lake (empty of children) and when it was time to go, I suddenly felt glued to the dock. Knowing that I would never again sit in that spot, I could not leave. Now you are thinking, "Come on Lynnea, stop being so overdramatic, we all have to move on from certain chapters in our lives. For most of us, we left camp a long time ago…join us in adulthood." But this is different, really. You see, the camp has been sold and in less than two months, the whole thing will be torn down and turned into a state park. This means several things: First of all, I will never work there again. Okay, I can deal with that; it is time to move on anyway. I started working there when I was 17 and am now 22. Secondly, I will never visit the camp and reminisce, looking in the cabin I spent 5 summers sleeping in, or the dining hall in which I ate hundreds of meals. Being nostalgic by nature, this is difficult to accept, but being that I have no choice, I will get over it. But there is one thing that I can’t seem to get over: the 1000+ kids that came to camp this summer in order to escape an abusive home, to have a place to go in between foster homes, or just to experience love for a week will no longer have such an opportunity.

Today ended our last camp of the summer and the last camp that will ever occur at Silver Lake and we certainly ended with a bang: It was a week specifically designed for children of inmates. We knew that it would be challenging being that most have some very serious anger issues, but we were in for several surprises: Three children were taken away in police cars for violently attacking their counselors, one child bit and punched Matt because he was trying to direct him to his class, Bryan had a camper placed in a room as an attempt to control his tantrum only to result in the child breaking a window, cursing and threatening anyone who came near. Down on the beach kids began to drown left and right simply because lying had become second nature to them and they convinced us and themselves they knew how to swim while they jumped into the deep end (yes, we saved them all). And now these kids filled with anger, lies, and violence who each year look forward to this week of freedom will not have this camp to escape to again. And so I sat on that dock as the faces of the thousands of kids from the last five years flashed past my face, and tears fell silently.