My second child cried as he boarded the bus six years ago for his first summer of sleep away camp. He wrote letters home about the pain and torment of sleep away camp, telling us he wasn’t “manly enough for this,” and that we must come and get him. And then, the second he came...
Maybe it is heartless, but I never understood the whole “waving as the bus leaves for sleep away camp” thing. You knew they are leaving. You can’t really see them through the bus windows. But, you continue to stand there, staring at the tinted windows, waving at random children whom you’ve convinced yourself belong to...
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