Dear Shwayder Camp,

I can’t believe I haven’t been up to 10,200 feet above sea level in almost three years. I can’t believe it’s been that long since I’ve seen how perfectly the green of the trees meets the blue of the skies and been able to take in the pure scent of the thin air in Shwayder Valley. My home away from home hidden in the beautiful Colorado mountains: just because I’ve gone away, it does not mean I will forget you. I never could.

To my wonderful camp, my kahilla kedosha, you were the most amazing nine years of my life, you were my safe haven when the world seemed too tough. Your open arms always welcomed me every summer, every third session, year after year, without avail. Thank you for being the catalyst for laughter, tears, love of Judaism, and endless memories. Just as my name will remain written on the cabin walls, your affect on me will never fade.

You taught me how to be strong, what it means to be part of a unit. You showed me how much fun one can truly have when they release self-consciousness and fears. It was through tough love, but true love, that you molded me into a grounded woman who is capable of anything she sets her mind to. From late nights in the cabins bonding with friends, to raids that ended in Axe bombs, and every early morning sunrise in between, I thank you. Without you, I would never know how important toranut is (Cleanest Cabin Award means serious business) or how special Shabbat can be when you’re dancing and singing for hours with your friends. I always think about you whenever I see those stars in the sky.

Shwayder Camp, as I write this ode to you nostalgia floods me; the last time I was this sappy thinking back over my time there was when I was writing my LYD speech. The light of those havdalah candles still shine, my asimon still hangs around my neck as a badge of pride (I’ve been stopped by people who have one or know someone who does), and I can’t wait to someday come back up there and be reunited with good friends and good times.

You sang me in and you sang me out: you truly gave me a summer to build my life on.

That’s my time,