My Summer Camp Experience

Originally published in Savannah Federation magazine.

Camp Ramah Darom is a not-so-small camp tucked away in the mountains of Clayton, Georgia. After the six-hour drive, you pass through the front gates, step out of the car, and take your first breath of mountain air. Some people would say it’s just regular air, but to me, it’s the smell of memories, laughter, tears, and pure joy.

Only about 11% of America’s children attend sleepaway camp, yet nearly 43% of those campers are Jewish. At Ramah, being Jewish isn’t something that makes you stand out—it’s simply part of everyday life. Being welcomed into a community where everyone shares that part of your identity is something not every Jewish teen gets to experience. I still remember my first year at Ramah when I leaned over to one of my friends and whispered, “Is everyone here Jewish?” The answer was obviously yes, but it felt almost unbelievable to be surrounded by so many people who understood that part of who I was.

Throughout the year, we spend about 340 days counting down until camp begins. Then, before we know it, the countdown changes. The moment we arrive, the clock starts ticking: 600 hours. Just 600 hours to catch up with old friends, create new memories, meet new people, and make every moment count.

At camp, I found a part of myself I didn’t know I was missing. I realized that home isn’t always a place you live year-round. Sometimes, home is somewhere you get to call yours for just 25 days. For those 25 days, Ramah is my home, and the people there become my family.

This summer, I accomplished more than I ever expected. I spent my days with my camp family. My best friend and I were constantly finding ourselves doing things we probably weren’t supposed to be doing, running around getting into harmless trouble, and laughing until we couldn’t breathe on the back porch of our bunk late into the night. Every morning, we’d wake up to our counselors cheerfully calling, “Boker tov, banot!” as the opening notes of “The Only Exception” by Paramore drifted through the cabin.

Those moments may seem small, but they’re the moments that become the memories you carry home. They’re the reason that, every year, saying goodbye never gets any easier—and why, after leaving, all you can think about is counting down the days until you’re back at Camp Ramah Darom once again.