In the Mirror

            Between the rolling hills and the river below I followed the road. With the trees and underbrush thick it’s hard to see much beyond the few mailboxes here and there. The dark green seems richer than any other color used solely by kings in civilizations gone by. A zephyr plays with the leaves up above and the light down below. The smell of the trees and their luxuriously colored leaves whips through the car and delights my nose. Taking a deep breath I am filled with anticipation for the next few days, for the smell of these trees and of the moist earth itself tell me that I am indeed very near my destination.

            What is my destination? Camp DeClare, the single most beautiful place on earth. Ever since I was nine years old I had gone to Camp DeClare. It was the camp that my mother had gone to as a little girl and the camp where my grandmother had once been a counselor when it was first built. The mixture of wood and lake brought them back again and again, year after year, until my mother and then my grandmother had to move on with life. Now it was my turn to take in the joys of the camp, like the noisy dinning hall and the small beach at the lake front. But it wasn’t just for the camp itself that I always came back.