Choir camp is over. We picked up our fast maturing son this afternoon from his first nights away from home and family in his entire youthful life. I will not pretend that I wasn't at least a wee bit disappointed when he wasn't overly excited to see us. Sure he was happy—all smiles and watching us from his place in the concert lineup—but he wasn't I missed you soooo much happy. He wasn't dog waiting eagerly by the front door oh my god I thought I'd never see you again happy.
This is a good thing. He had a fantastic time. He experienced no homesickness, and no panic at being in a totally unfamiliar situation. I am so very pleased with this. Really, I am. And his new tendency toward reticence, his reluctance to share details, is also a very positive sign of his self security and comfort. He is branching out and finding new worlds and they are sweet and exciting and they belong only to him, and he is reluctant to share them. It is a natural part of his growing up.
But so is that slightly poignant tug at my heart strings when he comes home in a blissful calm. He didn't need us. He barely missed us. He was stumped, in fact, as to why I had placed all those little notes in his stuff, because, after he was in bed the night before he left, I snuck sticky notes with (hopefully unembarrassingly) affectionate memos on them into a few spots in his suitcase, just in case he was lonely for home. A little "we love you" here, a little "good night!" there. And when he asked me why I had done that, in a non accusatory, simply curious way, I told him they were there to help him know that even when he is away we are thinking of him, just in case he needed that reminder.
Anywhere you go, I told him, we will always be there for you, sending you our love.
