She’s Going to Camp

She's only eight. She has gone camping with family friends, but this is different. Five days, four nights away from home.  Her eyes twinkle when she hears me read aloud her packing list. What to bring. What not to bring.  She gets to bring cash for the camp store.  It's just like the movies, except she won't meet her long lost twin, and they won't wear matching camp uniforms. 

I want to be excited for her, and not let the mild terror show on my face. I want to instill her with a sense of adventure, excitement for memories to be made. But inside I am calculating how fast I can drive there if she needs me (if I need her). Inside I have some bubbling anxiety worrying if she will sleep alright, if she will make friends, if there's a mean girl, if she can keep her occasional bed wetting on the down low. 

She is strong, hilarious, creative, and whip-smart. She will be more than fine. She will come home with stories. She will use all the words, because she has many. I will listen, smile, and laugh, and gradually let go of my white-knuckle concerns.