It was the last weekend before college started. My best friends Leah, Zach, and I had one last summer adventure planned - a camping trip to Chamberlain Lake where we spent so many carefree days throughout high school.
I loaded up my ancient Volvo wagon while Leah checked supplies and Zach gathered the food he had picked up. As I slammed the trunk closed, memories flooded my mind from four years of cruising around with my friends in this car. We logged so many miles, blasting our favorite songs and dreaming big dreams. Was this really our last big adventure together?
The two-hour drive flew by as we reminisced about embarrassing moments from freshman year, debated which teachers deserved awards for “Most Likely to be Abducted by Aliens,” and played car bingo as we whizzed by familiar landmarks from our hometown. I felt twinges of sadness realizing how many “lasts” were woven throughout this final trip - the last first day of school we wouldn’t experience together, final season as cheerleaders for Leah, last chance for Zach to lead our football team as quarterback.
As we navigated the winding gravel road down to Chamberlain Lake, we grew giddy with excitement, already peppering each other with dares about who would jump off Devil’s Platform first. We picked the prime waterfront campsite and quickly set up our tents as the sun began its late afternoon descent. Zach gathered kindling for the fire while Leah and I blew up air mattresses and unfurled our stack of 80’s horror movie DVDs to watch later. We had no cell signal at all, but I didn’t mind. We all needed some time together fully unplugged from distractions before college swallowed up our attention.
As Leah and I lined up rocks for our usual s’more assembly line, Zach called out from the picnic table, “Get over here guys...I have something I want to give you!” Zach wiped his eyes as he handed Leah and I matching bracelets made of braided leather and colorful threads. “I had these friendship bracelets made for us with the dates we all met - October 2, freshman year. I thought they would remind us to make time for each other no matter what comes next.”
My eyes flooded with hot tears as we pulled our cuffs tightly over our wrists, emotions swelling at just how much we had been through together. From first kisses to family deaths, college tour road trips to building Homecoming floats during all-nighters fueled by Red Bull and pizza - the years contained a mosaic of memories that had shaped us. We had become family. How would we navigate the looming shift from the security of each other’s constancy?
As the last glimmers of pink faded from the August sky, we stacked our hands together like we had before every football game kickoff- “One, two, three...FRIENDS FOREVER on three!” Our shouts echoed through the pines as we dove straight into that glacial lake, surfacing with grit in our teeth but carefree joy overflowing our hearts.
The rest of the weekend passed in the glorious monotony of lake days - blistering ourselves by flipping pancakes on a smoking griddle, plunging off Devil’s Platform one by one, taking out the canoe to explore hidden coves down the shoreline, stargazing late into the night identifying constellations and satellites side by side. No momentous declarations or tearful goodbyes followed as we packed up reluctantly on Sunday afternoon. Just lingering hugs, repeating our lifelong creed - “Friends forever!”
That bracelet remains cinched around my wrist even now, fifteen years later, the colors faded and leather soft with wear. Whenever life feels overwhelming, I find myself fiddling with it, reminders of sustaining friendships flooding back. As I take my kids camping at Chamberlain Lake for the first time this summer and share about those golden high school days, I’m grateful for Zach’s impulsive gift that grounds me in what matters. The terrain of life keeps shifting, but the love fused between kindred spirits endures.