AT SUMMER CAMP WHERE I WAS A COUNSELOR, at least one night a week I would lie on the tennis courts and stare up into the limitless Maine sky to search for shooting stars—and just reflect.
I clearly remember coming back to camp late one night a few years ago, still wide awake after a rewarding day off. I ran back to my "cubie" (dressing room) to put my stuff down and grab my headlamp. My co-counselor was still up, so I grabbed her, and we walked to the tennis courts. As we lay on our backs gazing into the star-filled night, we began a conversation about companionship, my overwhelming fear about post-college life, and the shaky feelings I had about who I was trying to be.
Somewhere in the middle of this conversation, I discovered that I had fallen in love with a longtime friend. I realized that night that my feelings for him had grown into more than the friend-type love that we all share with those close to us. No, this was a love far beyond anything I had ever felt. And it consumed me. I realized that over the years I had gotten so wrapped up in my thoughts about how my friend was doing and whether or not he was happy, that I had forgotten to be me. I had put my life on hold for him—my feelings, my family, and my other friends.
