From the time I was 7 years old until I was 21 years old, camp was a part of my life. Often I wish that I could go to camp as an adult. I know that they exist, but unfortunately they are less about fun activities and more about drinking (for some that might be fun, but not for me, I prefer canoeing and horse back riding).
Triple R Ranch in Chesapeake, VA was the camp I went to every summer. It was a life changing experience. Home was a turbulent place and camp was a country refuge to transport me to a place of peace and contentment I had never known before or possibly since.
As a camper we were given Trading Post dollars by our parents to spend on trinkets, snacks and t-shirts. Popsicles were always a part of my purposeful purchase, it was really hot! To be specific push-up creamsicles were my steady addiction over the course of a week.
However as I grew and began to serve the camp as a CIT-counselor-in-training/Horse Wrangler something really special occurred every week, we had a night off and we got to go to Dairy Queen. Warm sticky mosquito filled air followed us as we piled in cars and trucks to a far away land of the fluffy cold substance called Ice Cream. Giggling and gentle innocent flirtations were shared among the staff as we had left our daily duties on the dusty ranch. New life was breathed into our bodies with each crispy cool bite.