While I am now surrounded by the comforts of home, I would gladly give them all up again just to be back at camp, sleeping in my bunk. I must admit that the first few days of falling asleep in a quiet room, sleeping in my own bed, and waking up without bugles ringing in my ear have been nice but it does not seem to make up for the longing I have for my bunk.
Each summer when all of my bunkmates arrive at camp, we run to our bunk and begin to make it our summer home. On the porch we hang a big welcome sign with all of our names. We unpack our clothes and place them in our cubbies. Then each bed takes on a personality of its own with its bright sheets and blankets, fun pillows and sentimental stuffed animals. As the summer moves on the walls begin to fill up walls with posters, letters and pictures from home. The bunk becomes a disco, a runway, a theater where we perform. We play on the floor with jacks, cards and trade stickers. At night, we lay in our beds sharing stories. When the lights are all out, we continue to laugh and whisper until sleep fills the air. What I miss the most about my bunk is waking up, looking around and knowing that all my friends are there.