I was handed the lanyard that branded me as a member of camp. An old, green, useless piece of cloth around my neck. I never could have known that in the next three weeks, I would have one of the best, and most enlightening times of my life.
When I came back home, I still kept the lanyard, hanging it up on my wall. The same piece of cloth I had hated served as my only memento of an experience I would never forget. Because I had such a good time, I returned for four years, every year getting another lanyard on the first day, until I aged out of the program.
Every year I went was another sacred experience. I made fast friends, in a place where so many people were like me. I found new hobbies, trying things I’d never deigned to think of before. I was one of the few to follow an old tradition, bringing lanyards from previous years to stack on top of each other. At home, I always hung the lanyards up on my wall. They may have been old, worn, dirty, and falling apart, but they brought back so many cherished memories.
I kept them until my final day, when I chose to pass them down to Paula, one of the closest friends I will ever make. Now they live with her, as an everlasting sign of our friendship, and of the camp that gave memories that will stay with us forever.
 

– DL

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant