Eventually the sunlight through the windows forces me out of my bed. I crawl out of my narrow twin mattress, quiet so not to wake the girl in the other bed right beside mine. I shuffle to the bathroom, strewn with swimsuits, tanktops and toothbrushes. I brush my teeth. Skip makeup. Pull back a ponytail and head to the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee. The other girls sleep soundly upstairs, tired from a late night of talking and laughing into the wee hours. I walk outside, the air smells familiar. Like the river and I breath in every bit of the water, look up at the hills and feel my stomach muscles sore from so much laughing the night before.

And I could have written that exact first paragraph 15 years ago. It all feels very deja vu. This slight ache in my heart that wants to see my family but is not ready for this to end. The part that wants one more day. One more week. Another night of Johnny Appleseed and fuzzy wuzzies and maybe some more night swimming and smores. But, today we go home. Back to the real world. Babies and spouses and dogs and jobs. Make up and email and dry cleaning. Where we put on real clothes instead of spending the day in swimsuits and flip flops. This time instead of an entire summer, or even just three short weeks, we had been here for less than three full days. And it was enough time to remember the summers that shaped us. To share old jokes and stories and memories and make lots of new ones.

Enough time to remember that we all go home, but this weekend was proof that it doesnt ever have to end.