Our camp (the site of the Wishing Tree) had an enormous field that was surrounded by woods, and in the middle of the woods wound a creek. Sometimes I’d go with some older campers into the woods and down to the creek, and as we crossed the field, I would have to jog to keep pace with their longer legs. I didn’t want them going too far ahead of me, swallowed up by the trees.
As summer winds down, it feels as if it’s an older camp kid who is moving too quickly across the field, barely paying attention to the fact that I am chasing summer to keep up.
I don’t like the return to school; I never have. I thought it would get easier, but it has only stayed the same. August rolls around, and I start feeling morose. Four weeks left, then three weeks left, then two weeks left… and then there is only one week left and then it is gone too. The twins are excited to start school again; to see their friends every day even if they’re not looking forward to the return to homework and long days in the classroom. They want to know which teacher they got, who else is in their class.
But I don’t want them to return to school and leave me alone in the house with all the stillness. It feels extra still after they have been here for weeks, and then suddenly gone again.
I can’t tell them this (can you imagine the therapy they’d need for that burden?); so instead I’m telling all of you. Because I think you understand what I mean, both wanting them to grow up and wanting them to stay small forever.