My kids came home from camp on Thursday. Each year that day has a certain rhythm to it. So I’d like to share that day with you: from silence to chaos and back again. Here goes.
6:20 am. Silence. The dog nestles up to me – for him, I’m just another warm body. “Honey, time to get up so we can leave at 7:15.” Still quiet…
6:30 am. Sniff, sniff: I smell nothing but broken plaster around the new windows in the kids’ rooms.
7:23 am. Leaving the house to pick up our camper. GPS says we’ll be there at about 9:18 am, 18 minutes after the gates open for final pickup.
8:00 am. Discussing with my wife how our kids feel that this is their worst day of the year, since they have to leave camp. We’re happy to have them home but I’m not sure I’d say this is our best day.
The kids’ best day is the day they go to camp. And that’s why that day is our worst day. Although after ten summers, we’re kind of used to it by now. Or numb – not sure which.
Letters to Camp 
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