Going home.

Today, we visited camp.

I was reluctant.

Not because of camp itself. But because of what the trees and grass carries. This was the first time I have visited home without my Granny in my life. Ever.

This was our place. Our run-away. Our journey. Our shared memory.

I can admit to anxiety. I restlessly chewed on the straw of apple juice slushy from sonic. Fidgeted in my seat, thankful for sitting in the back where no one could see the nervous shake of my leg. I could close my eyes and drive this road. Poppy is busy switching wallets from his torn old one to a new one with a belt-loop chain. "Don't stop believin" by Journey came on the radio - I thought of mentioning the end of "The Sopranos" but decided against it. I sang along, letting some of my energy out..

"...born and raised in sooouth Detroit.."

As we turn the final corner, I reach over and grab my camera. Snapping as we enter...the horses are out and grazing the fields. The sight was beautiful. Surreal.

"...everybody wants a thrill.."

I gasp - "The barns gone!" My mom looks shocked. "Oh my god..it is!" she replies. I could see the old barn in my head, the familiar view. The musty, manor smell that resonated there.

"..some will win, some will lose..some were born to sing the blues.."

Memories flooded my veins so rapidly, I felt emotional. As we stepped out of the car, I mumbled to myself, "smells like camp". If I could bottle the feeling of being back there so I can feel it all the time, I would.

As we begin to walk down the winding road toward the mess hall - I felt like skipping. Dark clouds covered the sun...it might rain as it did earlier, but I had a feeling it would hold off.

Camp was quiet. The campers had been picked up earlier, as I would find out. Only one counselor and the camp director was there. We roamed, reliving good times with Poppy.

After a discussion with the director, Kim, I sat by myself for a while on the steps of the pool. Surrounded by the beauty, the blue of the sky, the green of the trees - the grass, the heat of the concrete below. I let it encase me, soaking it in. Feeling it.

Suddenly, a gust of wind races around me. I closed my eyes, seeing my Gran's face. You could say it was the coming storm, but I know she was with me in that moment. She was home with me. I felt safe. I felt warm. Content.

We left, returning to the world of honking horns and stress of bills. Laying here, listening to the rain at 11:30, I feel happy. Happy I did it. Happy for the memories. Happy they are mine. Happy for camp, no matter how much it changes is still there for me to go home to.

I miss it. I miss the people. I miss the girl I was. But most of all, I miss her.