My Neverland

Does there really exist a Neverland? A place where no one ever grows old and never grows up? A place where everyone is free to act as young at heart as they feel? A place where the real world is never looming around the corner? A place where the everyday happenings in the world have no effect?

There’s a place I know that’s pretty close. It’s the place that I’ve spent my last four summers, enjoying the sun, lake, mountains and air amongst the company of my closest friends. Camp attempts to let us all achieve that childhood status quo of never growing up. As adults we connect with our inner child by running around all day playing games, singing songs and cheers, being silly, laughing, teaching, learning, growing, nurturing. But no matter what, there’s always an end. Camp only last seven weeks and despite attempts to lengthen it beyond its defined boundaries, there comes a point when you must say goodbye. The real world awaits, ready or not, happy or sad.

This year, in particular, I am less ready than ever to return to life outside of small town New Hampshire. In fact, I’ve done a good job avoiding it thus far- nearly two weeks since the end of camp and I’m still in New England. It’s an odd feeling to not want to go home, especially because the place I’m leaving feels like home.

I’m a city girl: I grew up with bright lights, noisy streets, buses and subways, no backyard and tall buildings. The city has always been my comfort zone. I like being able take a short walk to get nearly anything I need. I enjoyed playing soccer in the middle of the street always keeping one eye looking out for approaching cars. I am happy that I know how to parallel park a car in a spot of any size. So when I first came to camp four years ago, I was stepping way out of my comfort zone. The closest store is 2 1/2 miles away. Going to the bank takes 30 minutes round trip. Want to see a movie? Hope you have an hour to get there. It actually gets quiet here; there are times when you can only hear the air moving. Cell phone reception is spotty at best and there are two televisions, both of which are rarely turned on. On a spectrum, the two places are complete opposites. It’s funny that I like both so much.

For my first couple summers, I had no problem going home. Sure I was sad to say goodbye to my friends and would definitely miss the place, but I was eager to return home. Now, as I’ve spent more time here, I have grown more accustom to it. There are many things here that I don’t and can’t have at home. Things that I realize I cherish a lot. A lake in my back yard. Mountains in the distance. A real change of seasons. Most importantly, I have come to realize that the people with whom I spend my summers are my family. We stay close throughout the year, but it’s difficult when the real world is dictating our lives, as opposed to the bugles and a daily schedule.

There is no way to replicate the Neverland that exists for two months each summer. We could try, but there would always be something missing: the kids, the weather, the place, the sounds, the sights, the fun. It would be magical if we could make it happen but it cannot. That’s why each summer comes with such excitement and leaves with such sadness. It can only be summer. Neverland, paradise, oasis, heaven- whatever the title, it’s only temporary. Until next summer.