Last week, I drove nearly ten hours to North Carolina to take my kiddos to camp. I didn’t go to a sleep-away camp growing up, so this whole thing has been new to me. What really convinced Bryan and me to do this was hearing about the experience from friends of ours who went as kids. My very best friend growing up went to Camp Greystone, where Caroline goes, and the experience was life changing for her each summer. So, we did our research, asked for lots of recommendations, and visited the camps with our kids. This is Brady’s third year and Tyler and Caroline’s second.
This year, however, is the first year they’ve all gone at the same time. Last year, we rented a little house in Highlands to be nearby for drop offs and pick ups that didn’t line up. This year, however, I said three goodbyes for three weeks at a time in a span of 24 hours.
I was prepared for the nerves. I was prepared for the chaos of the road trip. I was not, however, prepared for the physical ache in my heart as I drove away. I’m tearing up as I type this. Everyone tells you about the hard situations in parenting — the teenage attitudes, the toddler tantrums, navigating friends and school and making choices. No one tells you how it feels to let go.