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  • Writer's pictureSophie

Day 17

I was just looking through some old pages from sophomore year and I stumbled upon this random prompt I wrote myself so I decide to add on...

But that’s not what this is all about. This is about what I could have done, in fact, about the time when I could’ve had the world. This time was one of the most substantial times of anyone’s life, teenagedom, more specifically, the ripe age of sixteen. This time of one’s life can be marked by when you keep looking out on the horizon just to see the muck waiting for you once you turn twenty-one. The adolescent summer of my sixteenth year was a doozy, to say the least, but it was important, which is why I have chosen to recount that summer attending Camp Wickashaw. It was the summer of 1988 in upstate New York, the kind of summer where sometimes it was so hot you could convince yourself that you felt a drop of rain on your face. Camp Wickashaw was known for two things, its extremely rare oak trees lining the camp and the general incompetence of the counselors working there. We were pretty much able to do whatever we pleased as long as we came back somewhat unscathed at the end of the day. Because of this fact, do not be alarmed at the risks we put ourselves in that summer. No, it wasn’t safe, but it was technically allowed, like many things in life.

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