Out The Door To Camp

Clothes? check.  Toothbrush and toothpaste? check.  Flashlight? check.

Ben reads off the list and I answer each inquiry with a nod and a "check!"  We're packing for camp.  I can't believe it's time for this already.

Last year when I kissed him goodbye and sent him off to the camp bus, I was a blubbering mess of 40 week pregnant hormones.  Sending one boy away while waiting for another one to arrive was almost more than my mothering heart could bear.  We had teased and talked about what it would be like if baby Peter showed up while he was away.  Little did we know that our little scene would play out almost exactly like we envisioned.  My big boy coming clamoring in the back door to find a whole new person taking up spot in his Mama's arms.

A year later, things aren't quite as exciting.  No babies on the way, and Ben is not likely to miss much more than a cook out and maybe a visit to the pool.  In fact, this day has snuck up on me, taking me completely by surprised.  Funny how much changes in a year.

He slings his backpack up on his shoulder and tucks a pillow under his arm.  "I'm just going to start loading up the car, 'kay?"  He is all confidence and excitement.  I tuck the last item, an envelope of spending money, into his backpack and for just a moment all my Mama anxiety comes flooding back.  Will the other kids be nice to him?  Will he be lonely?  Homesick?  What if he gets hurt?  I glance up to his hardly contained grin.  "I hope you gave me a lot.  I'm going to eat so much ice cream!"  My brief anxiety melts away like a summertime snowcone.

These first few steps of independence are a beautiful thing.  I can hardly contain my pride when I see him confidently striding out that door, ready to take on the world with an unencumbered enthusiasm.  He's doing his part, working on growing into the man he is meant to be.  And my part is to let him get to it.