Some insight on Camp

I wanted to share with my friends some words on my feelings toward Camp. In this instance, Camp is Camp Ronald McDonald. It is typically the only thing I am referring to when I use the word Camp. It is capitalized for a reason. It is a living, breathing entity and I am in love with it. I am going to include excerpts from a letter I wrote today on the topic:

Camp Ronald McDonald is an absolutely wonderful place. I was introduced to it in my youth to the fullest degree as my youngest brother was diagnosed with cancer and battled it, successfully, for several years. Through this tragedy, my family was introduced to Camp. We attended as a family in the first years where my parents were able to discuss their trials with like-minded people who could openly share their experiences and offer support.
Camp quickly became a place my two brother's and I looked forward to twice a year. It was especially therapeutic for my diagnosed brother. Due to being hospitalized most of the years he should have been learning to socialize and interact with other kids, he was awkward around others. I'm sure it was very hard for him to make friends with other kids who didn't understand what chemotherapy was, and why he was bald and why he wore a shirt while swimming. But at Camp, my brother was just like everyone else. His new friends also had a tube coming out of their chest that they would hide under a shirt at the pool back home, they also had stories of their favorite and least favorite nurse.
At 18, I was not able to attend camp anymore but did what I could to support the Camp in other ways; donating from my paycheck, spreading the word to anyone who would hear me out and in the last few years, putting together a team to walk in a fundraiser.
After eight years of dedicating myself to my job, I was laid off. Despite the weight of it, I tried to stay positive and was able to pull out one shining star; "you can go back to Camp as a counselor." Summer 2012 I was accepted. I still have the voicemail on my phone. 
I don't think there is a way to make you understand what Camp means to me, but this is me trying. Just writing this, recalling that glorious week, is making me misty-eyed. As the week approached, I remember feeling nervous and unprepared - like it was a mistake because in my eyes, I was taking on a huge responsibility, to live up to the standards of the wonderful, fun counselors I had as a camper.
Then, as the children were being dropped off, something in me - something very natural - clicked on. I interacted with them, helped the first-timers shake their nerves and find common interests with other kids.
I have never used the phrase "I feel blessed" in my life, yet this was the only phrase that felt appropriate at the end of my week. Volunteers are often described as selfless but I couldn't help but feel selfish because of everything I took away from this experience. I need it again. It felt so right to be able to make those kids smile and as much as I felt that Camp was a part of me before that week, it is now set in stone. I honestly feel addicted as many of the other volunteers do. There are a handful of people each session who fly in from other states and give up their only vacation to volunteer at Camp.
As crappy as being unemployed for almost three years feels, I am happy that it gives me the opportunity to be a counselor again this Summer; the second week of August. 

So if I seem overly-giddy, nervous, impatient or hyper in the next few weeks - you now know.