My daughter decided in her ninth summer that going to camp might be fun. She decided at the last minute so we had barely a week to find a cheap on-sale trunk from Target and mark all of her belongings with a permanent marker. I bought her camp stationary, tucked loving notes from mom between the stacks of shorts and t-shirts and kept a stiff upper lip - until we got her settled in her cabin. Her face was full of terror and her eyes brimmed with tears as she suddenly decided maybe this wasn't such a neat idea.
I pushed the tears that were floating at the edges of my eyelids back so hard I'm surprised they didn't ooze out of the back of my head. My mouth quivering and my knees weak I gently "shoved" her into the throng of chattering little girls who collected on the steps of the cabin. I knew better than to look back as I walked away. Maybe we'd done the wrong thing. She was so young. And shy. how could she ever trust us. We'd probably ruined her for life. As soon as my hand was on the car door handle, I knew we had passed the point of no return.
I cried all the way from the piney woods of East Texas to Richardson. All I could think of was the snuggly little blue-eyed girl who I had always tucked into bed at night. "I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck. Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite." My gosh, there probably would really be bed bugs. And a whole week's worth of mornings without "seeing you in the morning light."
"I waited impatiently for the first letter. It arrived.
"Dear Mom and Dad and Chris (especially Chris), I really miss you. I've had a boring time. I WANT TO COME HOME! I've been sick sense I got here. I HATE IT HERE. I've been homesick, too. COULD YOU PLEASE PICK ME UP. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. I miss you a lot and I can't go to sleep at night cause I think about you. PLEASE COME AND PICK ME UP OR ALL. I LOVE YOU LOTSSSS. Love and hugs, Alyssa. P.S. If you don't come and pick me up I will hate you for the rest of my life. Everything is going wrong. PLEASE PLEASE COME PICK ME UP. HURRY. FAST. Love, Lyss. P.S. I'm never coming to this camp again or any other camp without you."
I didn't sleep much that night. The second letter informed us that she "through-up" on Thursday. Successive letters improved but there was always a P.S. "I still wish I was at Home Sweet Home and not at this crummy place." When Saturday arrived and we arrived to bring her home (we got there a LITTLE early and without getting a speeding ticket) the first person she greeted with cheers and an eager embrace was her kid brother! She talked a mile a minute, looked three years older and convinced us to stop three times on the way home for REAL food - McDonalds, Grandy's and Burger King.
It felt good to tuck her in that night - to both of us. The hug said, "I forgive you for not coming to get me. I really won't hate you for the rest of my life. I'm so glad to be home. I love you!"
There WILL be days this summer - oh, will there be days. But when my worth as a parent of an unpredictable pre-teen falls to it's lowest, I will quietly slip to my bedroom, close the door and retrieve the box from beneath my bed. A box full of special rocks, yarn crafts and the camp letters. I will read the letters, cry a little and be strengthened.
No comments:
Post a Comment