Journal+2-+Sneeze

Although I'm not a crazed fan of summer; I have no count down, and I don't go shopping for summer clothes in January, some of my best memories are in the summer. There's something about it, the warmth, the freedom, and the excitement that make the summer special, or maybe its the things that happen during the summer that make it so great. Summer after summer there is something to remember, a story, a lesson learned, and a bunch of uncontrollable laughs.

My grandparents own a house by the river, with a huge lawn and a pier leading out to the river. When I was little, it's where I spent every weekend. My grandparents also own a pool at their house, where I spent every day during the week. My cousins all lived by my grandparents, and another set live right down the road. My family's huge, like, Easter diner lasts all day- 30 people is a small turnout- three babies, four toddlers, and five kids all under the age of 8, large. And we all live close. I absolutly love it. So, the river and the pool was what my summer consisted off. Fishing, eating, swimming, and boating was the extent of my long lazy summers. It was simple, but it was home. It's what I remember and love the most.

But then again, the summer wouldn't be the summer without Hartman Center. It's a church camp I've gone to since third grade. 30 minutes south of Penn State, up in the mountains, and aka, the most beautiful place on earth, is my type of summer. It's where most of my summer stories come from, the place I count down til I go weeks before, and the place I cry about leaving on the last day. You hike, you creek walk, you play games, and sing songs. It's such a typical camp, and I wouldn't trade a second. Discribing it seems so cliche for me to say it words, yet it's probably the only summer event I'd never give up. To be surronded by worship, fun, and people who are completely okay with being themselves and ridiculously silly, it's simple and it's me.