The wind is blowing in my face. The nerves and excitement racing through my body and the golf cart keep going up, up, up. My sister is sitting beside me, squeezing my hand. “I’m so excited,” she whispers in my ear.
Today is my bat mitzvah, the day I have been waiting for my entire life, and the buses are about to pull in. It is at my favorite place, my camp. Indian Head Camp in Equinunk, Pennsylvania, means a lot to my family. My dad went there for 10 years, and my sister and I go there now.
My friends have been on the bus for three hours, and the doors are about to open. I am so excited to be able to celebrate with my favorite people at my favorite place. All of my friends come rushing out. I am overwhelmed. We race to go see our bunks, and I introduce my school friends to my camp friends. Now, it’s off to our Survivor events.
We walk down the hill in our white shirts and sneakers on our way to the lake. We split up into teams and get spirited. I am on the red team. All of a sudden, I feel something cold running down my legs . . . paint! We gather around to listen to instructions, our shirts and bodies covered in paint, handprints made of paint all over our shirts, a smile from ear to ear on every person’s face.
Climbing, swimming, running, jumping. First is wait-and-go-wet, where we run around in the water trying to tag the other teams and get them out. Next, raft building and racing. The activities in the lake continue, and then we head up to Third Hill. On Third Hill there is a huge and messy mud obstacle set up. I go first, running up the hill, taking on obstacles until I come out covered in mud.
I head back to shower and get ready for the party. That was the best day of my life, and it wasn’t even over yet. I loved being surrounded by the people I love and all of the people who love me.