Letter to my Children: Letters from my Children

Dearest Beloveds,

I wish I could imagine where you two are writing your letters home. Sitting up in bed and balancing your paper on your knees as you listen to rain hitting the sides of the tent? Laying on your bellies on your inspection ready sheets and writing on your pillows? Crouched on the floor writing hunched over on the floor of your cabin?

Momma and Dadda* are writing on one corner of the dining table. Our materials are strewn about because we don’t need to clear that end for meals.

When you both first left for camp, I was very cautious in telling you what we had done that day - especially since we were at the beach. I did not want to make you envious. So I filled my letters with admonitions to “have fun/try everything/meet new people.” I would pair those cheers with “you are so brave/adventurous/fabulous/courageous/wonderful/beloved.”

Once we started receiving letters FROM the two (and we returned from our adulting vacation) I phased out of the admonition phase and started sharing chores - secure in the knowledge that you would not be envious of such.

Clearing out closets/emptying cupboards/weeding/pruning/splitting wood/clearing out old medicines/reshuffling canned goods/trashing old files/collating photos/sewing projects… niggling todos that give me great pleasure.

While your parents are joyfully clearing out gutters you two are reveling in the glory of a camp summer - with letters to prove it.

BB gun targets, letters folded into airplanes, accounts of rock climbing, sailing, ping pong battles, friends, more friends, and MORE friends. We keep your letters on the fridge so we can reread them often and marvel at your tales.

And your spelling…

picoll ball in the corts

conueing trip

I have ben having a graet time

I ran out of anvolop’s

ping pong proe

I went saling

riting to you

I disliked it allout

hirt my feelings

this is an about simball

a disck at the store

Also, a huge shoutout to the postal service for deciphering your handwriting and address placement on envelopes and postcards.

It is a joy. All of it. The ache in my heart as I miss you and the delight as I think of you growing and stretching and trying things outside of our nest - coming into yourselves without your parents’ interpretations.

Before you two left I shared with Dragon one reason we like camp is to give him a break from worrying about what his parents’ reactions. He piped up right away. “I do that now. Sometimes Momma, I laugh when Dadda is listening to his soccer podcast because he is laughing too - even though I don’t understand it.”

Exactly - time apart with a very soon time together again.

*And yes Bean, I know you are now calling us Mom and Dad. I am not quite ready to let go of Momma.