She would still remember it all. The laughter, the scenery, the feeling, the youngness of everything, even when she was old, her mind crumbling away with illness. The feeling, the rush, the angst, the heartache of being young thrummed through her veins. 

It was a camp that she remembered the most. Just a bunch of carefree kids in a four-wheel-drive bus, singing to cheesy pop music, forming inside jokes, rubbing their sandy feet on the sandier floor. The campfire on the beach, laughing her head off while she hula-danced by the sea with a boy who smelt of soap and woodsmoke. The screams erupting as a huge wave from some Chilean shore soaked the girls to the core. 

She would remember the feeling of early morning, the sleepiness of her classmates, the clean, fresh smell of untouched earth. The soothing water of the lagoon, cool and soft against her skin. Sand beneath her feet, climbing, walking, barefoot every minute. The suction of the starfishes, the laughs that accompanied them. The loud singing in the bus, parodying every single song. 

She would never forget the exhilaration of running down the beach, giggling the whole way, the stormy clouds contrasting with the mustard sand. The blue sky above the sand hill, cloudless and beautiful, their last day on the island spotless. 

She will remember the steady drip of tears, accompanying the spatter of rain, hoping and praying nobody will ask if she's okay. She will remember the heartache like it was yesterday, the pain and the joy of being young. 

The campfire of the last night will remain burned into her memory, its flickering light sparking random sing-a-longs and companionship. The night they all stayed up as long as possible. The cool air of the top deck of the barge back home, its large form looking back at the island, a patch of sunshine. The exhilaration of trying to finish food before trying to get back on the bus. The poetic and the practical moments of teenage years. 

She will always remember them, the kids who she grew up with, the ones that knew her. And, eventually, she knows, one day that campfire will call her home.