Personal Narrative: A Walk Through The Woods

My friend and I sprint through the woods, glancing worriedly at the clouds above threatening to begin a downpour at any minute. Although we run as fast as we can, we are weighed down by the amount of sticks and firewood we hold, needing to stop frequently to adjust my raincoat, which is covering the wood from the light drizzle that has already begun. Once we get back to our cabin at Camp Hayward, we stash the wood underneath, marveling the growing piles of sticks girls all around the camp are collecting in preparation for the next day. Every session the camp offers has a unique activity, but we all know that session four has the best one: a two day color war, with the last day consisting of fire games. Four girls from each team get selected to be fire tenders, and everyone on camp, including myself, was almost certain that I would be one of them.

She tells me, “I think it’s going to be you!” I’m not sure what to say, because I don’t want to come off as cocky, but I think it’s going to be me too. We return to the cabin and get ready for dinner, anticipating the elaborate reveals the counselors plan for the girls who are bestowed with the honor of tender. Halfway through the meal, we turn to hear screams from another table. One tender revealed. Okay, I think, still three left. A girl in my cabin goes outside, and returns crying with joy. Alright, still two more tenders. We go back to the cabin, and the counselors pass out the mail from home. Another cabinmate screams, for the letter she thought was from her mom is in fact from our counselors, telling her of her position. One left. This one has to be me. Suddenly, a girl from our adjacent cabins sprints in, telling us the good news that she’s a tender too. The four have been chosen, and I’m not one of them. Seemingly as soon as the color war starts, it’s over, and camp is over