Pom Camp

Oh, pom camp.  Where I have spent 8 summers living in the campus dorms.  Moving everything in from picture frames to bathroom towels along with every box of snack food that can fill an entire bag.   

Pom camp is a place where you leave home to sleep on cracker box mattress and wear flip flops to the shower.  You wake up way too early on your summer vacation and spend countless hours trying to separate all of the dances your delirious mind ingests throughout three long days, full of dance, spirit sticks and of course, jazz hands.

Yes, pom camp.  Where you see your competitors from surrounding schools and glare at them, only to regret that immature decision when you go to college and find out they are your new sorority sister.

I speak from only one experience.  One with a girl you will see at the end of this story. :)

Oh, and don't forget about the prayer circle.  

Heads bowed, right toe pointed.

I knew you would remember.

The bruised knees, sore feet, aching muscles you never knew existed are all in part for the spirit stick bragging rights. 

And the trophies and ribbons.

He doesn't even know how lucky he is to be a part of this.

This last week, I subbed in for one of my best friends, Mel, (see, the story has a happy ending) by 'coaching' her girls throughout their lead up to camp.  She was on her honeymoon, leaving me with the better end of the deal, or so she says.

I absolutely loved getting back into the swing of things and entering into the dance world once again.  Man it is fun to get that feeling of competitiveness and inspiration.  It can suck you in and I found myself drowning for a minute there.

I kept telling the girls to relish in these moments because it's just not the same dancing around your house, knocking over lamps or running into the couch.

You better believe that my legs are sore, coming home each night trying to replicate their moves.  Ryan wasn't too concerned.  He was to busy laughing.

It was a sad moment for me having to come to the realization that 

I just don't got it no more.

Not that I ever had it.

 But the quick week has passed by.  My time in the dance world is over once again.

That is until she goes on another trip and with her frequent flyer miles in the black, I sense it won't be long.

Until then, I will be icing my sore muscles and leaving it to the new generation to keep the art alive.