It's not too late...
So...that's nice.

Happy Place

Last week I drove down to New Mexico, this time with Clay, to pick up Max from camp and drop off Tre. Actually, Tre drove part of the way down too. If you think that was "helpful" or "relaxing," then you haven't really thought that through. My wee baby boy, who is somehow 15 years old. Going 75 MPH. I'm pretty sure I inadvertently knotted my seat belt into a rosary, trying to sit quietly in the back seat while Clay instructed.

Nonetheless, we got there, and we collected Max. He was filthy, and his flip-flop had broken that morning, so it was flailing around his foot like a wounded bird. He was too busy and pleased with himself to go change shoes.

MaxCamp 009 
He was so beautiful. All I wanted to do was look at him, fill my eyes back up with the Max-ness of him.

He took up saxophone this week, and he loved it. When he'd mentioned he was interested in sax, I just figured that made sense. He's constructed with just the right mix of quirk and cool. Tre and I had a discussion the other day wherein we chose instruments for everyone in the family. Sophia, you'll be interested to know, is a trumpet player. Because they are bright and kind of bossy and think the world revolves around them.

MaxCamp 014 
Max was created a sax player. He just is.

He introduced me to one of his friends, a girl. They went to the dance together. Later I asked, "Can I ask you something personal?"


So I didn't.

We unloaded Tre's belongings and loaded in Max's. It's hard to know what you feel in a moment like that.

Tre could barely see us, he was so thrilled to be back at camp. This is his other home, his happy place. This year he's a counselor in training, a CIT.

MaxCamp 007 
He really never wants to leave.

Max said he was ready to go home, but since he's been home he's been sick. I think half of his illness is from the physical cratering after a week of no sleep and lots of drama and camp food, but the other half is grief from leaving it all behind.

I met some friends for lunch today and rudely informed one of them that I was currently a wreck from driving down to New Mexico two weekends in a row.

"I think of myself as a people person, you know," I babbled, not really thinking of how this might sound to this really great person who drove over an hour to meet me and another friend, "but take me out of my house too often, and I'm a mess. I just want to spend a week in bed."

She was awfully kind about it, but I replayed my words in my head later and winced. What a jerk I can be.

But it's true. I am moving slow this week, sort of dazed and muffled at the heart.

It just keeps happening. These children of mine stretch up and out into the world, finding their own spaces, their own voices, their own happy places.

It's exactly what I want for them, yet I keep walking behind them with a faltering step, watching the gap grow.

I just can't see it yet, from here, where my happy place will be when they have found their own.



*patpatpat* Think of all the other times you haven't been able to see it, and just had to go on faith. This too.

Love you.

Angela Giles Klocke

No, see - you must have been so busy analyzing what you had just said (or wondering why you EVER agreed to meet me IRL) and missed me saying, "Same here!"

In an effort to once explain to a friend that I didn't want to meet up every week, that I like being HOME and BY MYSELF (with family) more than anything, I hurt her feelings. I didn't mean to, and it was very much like I was breaking up with her, but it's not what I meant.

And by this, I mean, I KNOW what you meant. I get it. I woke up this morning like I'm hung over. When I have long days with people, no matter how AWESOME they are (points at you and Trina), I am exhausted. I'm, like, the most smartest person alive, so I got what you were saying. :D

Jan in Norman, OK

Your analysis of trumpet players is spot-on. It also goes for violinists, sopranos, and tenors.

But I never met a saxophonist that wasn't totally wonderful.


ahhh, summer camp, that wonderful place of fantasy and comfort, where you can be whatever you want to be without being judged. no wonder he never wants to leave, how sweet it would be if real life was like summer camp....43 years of attending summer camp for me, it is only for a week, but a week I look forward to from the moment I hit the gate to camp going home, ~sigh


I think he's sick from the girl cooties, the extent of which you didn't get to ask a personal question about... (wink)


In the last two months, I have become childless**, jobless and dogless. Gosh that looks silly when I read it in print. I have found that what once grounded my days, is now a thing of the past. Shockingly, every day is still full of promise. Much to everyone's surprise, I am filling my days quite nicely and only occasionally do I find myself wishing for what was.

**not really childless, just an empty nest!!

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