| 02/2007 - I Love a Happy Camper |
By: By Susan Brooke Day - February 2007
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Just thinking about it can make my stomach lurch a little bit. But she's a big girl now, she's 13! What a weenie I am. I'm talking about driving my daughter away to camp. At various times before the Sunday that we drive her she can be seen leaping through the house exclaiming things like "I can't wait!" and "I'm going to camp!" And I'm happy for her, I really am, that she can be so tickled and excited about it. I'm just sort of bummed for myself, is all. Will she be thrilled like that when she leaves for college one day? And is the feeling that I get anything like the one that I'll get then? I think so. I guess it's sort of early training for ... Empty nesting?
But hey, I still have my boys! My 4-, 8- and 11-year-olds are still at home so don't feel sorry for me ... Or maybe you feel sorry for me that I have three boys? No, they're great, my rough-and-tumble set ... It's just that ... She's my Ally! She's my only girl. From the moment she was born I had a comrade in the world.
Still, summer camp for Ally has been, since she was 9 years old, a sheer delight. We just had to get over that initial good-bye.
The first time we took her to camp -- two-and-a-half hours away and for one week -- we were told to drive straight to her assigned cabin after registration. Registering we hooked up with the camp director and counselors and pulled cold drinks and watermelon from a canoe loaded with ice. Oh yes, Ally got her first camp T-shirt and a uniform for "tribe" night and she had her hair inspected by the camp nurse ... She also had a chance to buy a little something at the camp store -- were we prolonging the big moment when we'd say goodbye? -- but then we drove straight to her cabin with her brand new trunk, sleeping bag and stuffed animals in tow.
As we thunked over tree roots pushing up through the hard, dirt road of the rustic camp, I looked at Ally in the rearview mirror and studied her face. It held a mixture of anticipation and worry and it put a hard lump in my throat. I gripped the steering wheel and concentrated hard on finding the right cabin, passing Rising Fawn, Twin Sisters, Wantucket and finally arriving at Flintrock.
"Here! Here's your cabin!" I chirped like a bird as I flung open my door and moved with exaggerated energy as though all was just great. I had to show leadership, right? Suddenly there were counselors and girls and assistants and more happy smiles than I could count. Everything started going so fast and a cute girl Ally's age smiled at her and Ally smiled back. Before long my husband grabbed my hand and gestured with his head that we should move along now, get on the road ... Leave her. So I started moving toward the car ... Because I was just another parent in this world of campers who were setting off on a big adventure and Ally didn't need me now and so, I'll just get going then. Little old me. The cabin screen door slammed behind us, having hugged Ally and waved our good-byes.
And then we were in the car and I was turning the key. And then there she was flying from her cabin, coming over to my side and opening my door to fling her arms around me. She looked at me, breathless, and through soft tears said, "This is gonna be fun mom!" And I was so incredibly proud of her in that moment. I hugged her hard and she ran off. I drove away with tears of my own.
And I set my mind to thinking about all of the great doo-dads and notes I was going to write her while she was ... Gone. My comrade. |
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