I will not be so bold as to exhale, but…I will memorialize the fact that the first week of camp was, wait for it, an unmitigated success. It started and ended without incident. It was five times (read: five days) better than camp experiences of the past. A happy child left my house in the morning and returned, still happy, in the afternoon. And, perhaps of greater note: no calls, emails, texts or smoke signals from camp. Phew. (Not to be confused with an exhale.)
Throughout the week, however, I have been the recipient of texts, emails, and phone calls checking in on me, um…I mean Jess. (Note: those meant the world to me, friends!) As the week progressed, I’ve responded with slightly greater comfort each day and found myself a little bit surprised when I realized that it was Friday already and not a single scary phone number appeared on my cell, no emails in my inbox and no notes in the backpack. Bestill my heart.
I am unsure to what I owe this change of events: Is it the camp? Or the additional year of “maturing” (I use the term loosely)? Or a heavenly alignment of the stars? Or G-d’s way of giving me a break after the shitstorm of last summer? I suppose a better question is: does it even matter?
If I have learned nothing else over these past eighteen months, I have learned to (try like hell to) not over-think every experience, episode and event. I have (almost) become Zen in my approach to transitions, tests and tantrums. I know when to ask questions and when to just take things at face value and run.
To my credit, I resisted the (overwhelming, nearly debilitating) urge to drop a quick email (or phone call or text or smoke signal) to the camp director as a means of confirming that all really is well and am quite confident that, were it not, I’d have heard about it.
Monday starts the second week of camp and while I will not exhale, I will assume (perhaps dangerously) that it will be as great a success as the first week. Your collective crossed fingers, toes, and genuflection are appreciated as are your respect for my holding my breath. We can do this.