Besides the obvious of insisting that she would never let anything that ridiculous happen, how would my 19 year old self have reacted to the news that I would one day forget all the camp songs I ever knew, and would need to use the lyric book to remember them?

I remember being tired, bone tired, dead tired, lay down on the picnic table and sleep for 18 hours straight tired. I remember knowing that I wasn’t going to come back, or at least that I wouldn’t be back the next year. Did I ever seriously think I wouldn’t be back ever? That 11 years later I would have late night guilt-fests and mourn the loss of my identity, and irrationally blame my current job for keeping me from being there?

What if I told her that I was worried that the current crop of kids was too cool to sing, and that Iworried that they would dismiss me out of hand if I busted out a rousing chorus of The Hippopotamus Smile song?

I am so tired of being nagged by all this self doubt. Having nightmares once a month, against feeling like this for a week, I don’t know which I’d prefer. I know I can be a better counselor. I know that I need to do more to prepare myself going in. I know that I need to commit, and hang all thoughts of “coolness” at the door. I know that I need to have all my songs and games at my fingertips again, but that doesn’t happen automatically.

It isn’t like riding a bicycle. The hand motions may be embedded in muscle memory, but the words and tunes are not.