Perhaps it is the nagging feeling that as his mother I can do best. But my heart aches right now. My boy came home from camp sullen and quiet. Where I was expecting joys and never ending chatter about all the good times, instead he is withdrawn and sad. Clinging to me.
In amongst the over tired sadness that is exuding from his little being, there are tales of fun. Games played, skits watched, friends made. But it was not the life changing experience I imagined or hoped for him. Maybe it just wasn’t the right place for him. Maybe it was too soon, 8 too young, in his case. Maybe he is just really really tired, and was really really home sick. Maybe tomorrow he will be full of stories. Maybe this is just our personalities, dreamers, but attached home bodies. Maybe this is a fault of mine?! Maybe I am now being as dramatic as he is inclined to be at times. He learned from the best … … …
Right now we are both just glad to be in the same space, and I know I am going to be holding him tighter for a while. And maybe this is why the week apart was a good thing. Some space and time. Which perhaps we both needed. Admit it or not.
I know him. I know that when he is worn out, he is apt to dwell on the negative. And so I will keep drawing out the good memories. And we will talk about the rest some more. I will show him I respect his thoughts and feelings. I will listen. Tonight we re-ignite the routines that are apparently dear to him. And treasure each other. This is the gift of life, isn’t it?! To treasure those we love! And to try to help them grow, alongside us if possible, and in the right gardens.
We have time left in the summer to make more memories. And to learn from this time apart, together. And to get into some serious cheering up time!
Pancakes with icing for breakfast?! I say Yes!