I have a teenager. Biggest is thirteen years old, his voice has gone to that crazy place of deeper valleys and broken crags; his feet seem too large for his body. There is no way I can ignore that he is a teenager very near the cusp of the man he will, one day and all too soon it seems, become. And yesterday, loving him sucked so much.
I suppose I should be more clear – I adore my son. I love him with all my old lady heart. And loving him doesn’t suck. Except when it sucks my old lady heart out and leaves it hurting. Continue reading
This week I am under the trees.
Trees cover the rolling and climbing hills of the camp I am at — there are over 200 acres of trees to walk beneath and among here at Camp Adams. And I am not alone. I am surrounded by others younger and older, walking among the trees.
It is good to be here under the trees.
Where are you?
If all goes well, it is Monday and you are reading this. Also, if things are going well, I’ve survived the start of my first time directing an outdoors camp. Another assumption is that this dang post has actually loaded. One can only hope, right?
For those of you with outdoor school backgrounds, I know you are raising your eyebrows. After all, what’s not to love about outdoors camp? Nothing, I’m told. Yes, I’m a director at a camp and I’ve never been a director before, never been a counselor before and never been a camper before (aside from a week in 6th grade of which I can remember 2 things: washing dishes and identifying trees based on bark).