We just dropped Jessie—along with her sleeping bag, rubber boots, and a bag of clothes—off at the buses leaving for
Camp Misquah. She’s been looking forward to a full week in a lakeside cabin with friends and high-energy counselors. Misquah has certainly become a traditional part of her summer life.
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| Country Gal, Black Belt Belle, Lady Lyrics, and Jessie |
While some of the campers waved a tearful goodbye to their parents, Jessie made a beeline from our car to the check-in location and then bounded off to find friends and returning counselors. We were really only there to schlep her bags, I guess. She was, however, happy to wave at us from the window as the bus departed and we parents and caregivers were left, a bedraggled lot, to head out variously to delightful vacations of our own or much needed house and garden repairs.
I always feel a bit anxious at the empty space that yawns open after we drop her off, and have, over the years, found different ways adjust and cope. Today Dan and I decided to go straight to the grocery store.
On our way there I told Dan that I was feeling quite sad. “It’ll pass,” he said. I wondered how long it might take and if my sadness would ruin our time together. By the time we entered the store and I got to the produce section, I was feeling anxious. Jessie, the touchstone of my days, was gone and I wasn’t sure how it would all unfold. Would I be able to focus on anything? Would I be kind and loving with Dan or keep thinking about Jessie and her life and her future and whether she had remembered to change her underwear?
I was distracted and wandered behind Dan as he put lettuce and bread and cheese into the cart. I drifted down aisle 1 and thought about how I might not have to fight over my computer for a whole week. That made me smile.
At aisle 4 I remembered that we needed some salad dressing and it occurred to me that for a whole week, we could actually put tomatoes in the salad (Jessie doesn’t like tomatoes).
At aisle 9, I was madly flinging packages of black licorice and Junior Mints into the grocery cart to accompany Dan and I to all the movies we were going to see together.
Nine aisles, that’s all it took. I guess I’m just a resilient kind of gal!
