One Summer’s Day

While I plod through the workday — fielding emails, drafting press releases, shuffling from one meeting to another…

While Martin triages twice as many emails, silences his phone, and clacks away at his keyboard….

While Hadley’s clocking in another nine hours at daycare….

While Brynn is toddling about and nursing her sutured head…

Cayden is basking in the unbridled joy of summer camp. This week is his first taste.

The day camp is situated on a former dairy farm, on a sprawling 115 acres. Modern ammenties glimmer in the sun — a basketball court, a hockey rink and a pool — but the property’s former life is evident. The bank barn is converted into an art and crafts studio, and the weathered outbuildings serve as camp offices, shady lunch stations and a camp store. It’s a mix of broad, green fields and thick blanketed folds of forest and creek beds.

When I pick up Cayden one afternoon this week, he looks tired and tan and happy. His hair is spiked with sweat. He reeks of chlorine and sun block. What did you do, I ask. His day goes something like this:

Go swimming
Practice archery
Play soccer
Eat lunch
Hike in the woods; search for tadpoles and crayfish
Swim again
Arts and crafts
Ride the zip-line
Eat rice krispie treats; drink gatorade
Climb a rock wall
Go fishing
Head home

He tells me about his search for sasquatch (I saw his footprint in the woods!), about his counselor, Rocky, a 20-something guy who sports a mohawk. He talks about the camp olympics and the red team’s quest to earn the “badge of awesomeness.”

Back at home I shake my computer awake while Cayden tucks a tub of pretzels under his arm and collapses by the TV. I dive back into work, but every so often the Boy wanders in to ask a question. Sun block wafts in his wake and momentarily I smell and see his day…

…plunging in the pool, casting his fishing line and thundering down the hockey court.




Not camp related but summery, just the same