I still remember the first time I heard about Camp Sundown. Someone had described it as a summer camp where the lights come on just as the rest of the world prepares to sleep. A place where laughter echoes under the stars, where children run freely without fear of the sun. It sounded magical—almost like a storybook world. But the reality behind it is something far more profound.
You see, the children who come to Camp Sundown live with a rare inherited condition called Xeroderma Pigmentosum (XP). From the moment they are born, sunlight is their enemy. Even a few minutes of UV exposure can damage their skin, their eyes, and their cells in ways most of us can’t imagine. While other children play outdoors at noon, kids with XP watch the world from behind closed curtains, protective clothing, and UV shields. Their lives revolve around shadows, schedules, and constant caution.
So imagine their joy when they arrive at Camp Sundown—a place created just for them. I remember the night I first visited. The sun had just dipped behind the treetops, and a soft blue twilight spread across the camp. As soon as the UV meters signaled it was safe, the children poured outside, running with a kind of freedom that felt contagious. It wasn’t just excitement—it was release. For once, nobody was shouting, “Stay in the shade!” or “Cover your face!” Here, darkness meant possibility.
The camp was founded by a family who understood this struggle better than anyone. Their daughter was diagnosed with XP, and they quickly learned that traditional summer camps could never work for her. So they built a new kind of camp—one that turned night into day for kids like her. When they opened the doors, families from across the country, and even from around the world, began arriving. They found comfort in knowing they weren’t alone, that there were others living the same nighttime rhythm.
Walking through the camp, I saw kids playing basketball under giant floodlights, roasting marshmallows beneath a star-filled sky, riding bicycles on moonlit paths. Their joy felt different—bigger—because it came from years of being told no, only to find a place that finally said yes. I sat beside a small group drawing glow-in-the-dark murals, and one little boy told me, “I feel normal here.” That simple sentence stayed with me. It said everything.
Camp Sundown isn’t just a camp. It’s a refuge, a community, a safe world carved out of darkness for children who have spent their lives hiding from the sun. It gives them what so many take for granted: the chance to make friends freely, to explore without fear, to run and laugh without checking the sky.
As I left that night, I watched the kids still wide awake, still buzzing with energy. The ordinary world slept while theirs had only just begun. And I realized something—these children weren’t missing out on life. They were simply living it differently, beautifully, and bravely.
Camp Sundown shines a light in a world of darkness—not the burning light of the sun, but the warm, gentle glow of understanding, acceptance, and hope.
