We find our place in the bunk
Some of us know each other from past summers. Others are brand new. But somehow, in just a few days, we figure out how to live together, laugh together, and turn a cabin into a home.
We feel completely lost… then suddenly not
The order of our schedule changes every year, and the first few days feel like a maze. But with a little help from staff, a few wrong turns, and some lucky guesses, we start to figure it out.
We lose our voices in the best possible way
Between cheering, singing, evening programs, and late-night bunk chats, our voices don’t stand a chance. And honestly, we kind of love it.
We try something new and surprise ourselves
It might be climbing the tower. Or standing up to lead a prayer. Or just raising a hand during a group discussion. We push ourselves in small ways, and it sticks with us.
We find a quiet moment that means more than we expected
Maybe it’s during Siyyum (one of our nighttime rituals). Or sitting by the lake. Or just walking to the next activity with a friend. These moments remind us that camp isn’t just about fun. It’s about connection.
We laugh so hard we cry
It might be something a counselor said. Or a ridiculous inside joke in the bunk. That first laugh that leaves our faces hurting is the moment we know we’re really here.
We start to recognize the rhythm of camp
We stop asking “Where do we go next?” because we know. We start feeling the flow — wake up, activities, meals, menucha, evening programs, sleep. It starts to feel natural. Like it’s always been this way.
We help someone else feel welcome
Whether it’s a bunkmate who is struggling to adapt or someone who missed the instructions, we step in. And it feels good to know we’re part of what makes this place feel safe.
We notice a new tradition forming
It starts small. A phrase we keep repeating. A song we always hum before bed. A way we line up without even realizing it. And then suddenly, it’s ours.
We fall asleep knowing we belong here
Even if the bed squeaks or the air is too warm or someone’s fan is aimed directly at our faces. We feel full — of joy, of meaning, of people who really see us.
