Drop off

Sometimes when I can’t sleep I imagine to myself that Jeff and I are dropping off the boys at their summer-camp buses. First Ned. I see the crowd of campers and parents and counselors, the trunks and sleeping bags. “Bye-bye, Ned!” we say. Alex says, “Bye, Ned!” and they hug. Then we drive somewhere else and do the same thing with Alex. “Bye! Bye! Bye!”

Then we drive away in a newly empty car. We drive immediately to a hotel near a beach where our room faces the ocean. There is a masseuse available 16 hours a day, so if you can’t sleep you can book a soothing massage. There’s a full-service salon with similar hours. Usually, just as I’m deciding between pedicure and aromatherapy massage, I drift off.

This morning half my reverie came true. We took Ned to a sidewalk crowded with campers and parents and counselors, and left him on the bus. He was making friends with counselors and showing off. “Bye, Ned,” I said, thinking I’d have a last hug or kiss. “Bye,” he said, without getting up. “Maybe I’ll write you.”

This was all, as Jeff would say, some different from taking Alex to the camp departure. First, there’s a long check-in line for campers (almost all of them) who need to have their medications and prescriptions signed in by the nurse. Then there’s a lot of waiting around before kids get on the bus. Finally Alex is seated, and my last look at him is his little white face, peering out the window, staring, wondering (I think) what the week ahead will be like, when he’ll come home again.

In a few weeks, we’ll get to see how Alex feels about going to sleepaway camp. For now, it’s one down, one left, and hoping that the next good-bye session will go as smoothly.