Better than Christmas . . .



The bags are packed. A is loading up the van. I wander around the house with my list, trying to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Baths are being had and clothes will get laid out to aid in our early morning rising and departure. The air in our home is electric, the excitement is palpable.

It’s the eve before we leave for what could possibly be heaven on earth for C. Two weeks of unadulterated fun and freedom at Camp Winston. C told me earlier today that if given a choice between what was more exciting, Christmas Eve or the night before Camp he lit up and said “Camp of course, every time”.

At Camp he is himself. He is embraced and loved and celebrated for his uniqueness. He is gently challenged to try new things and to try to see other people’s views in things. But in all he is a boy at camp. A wonderful, curious, brave soul who is loved wholly and completely.

It has been the hardest year for all of us and I am not sure who in this house is the most excited about Camp tomorrow. It will be hard to let him go and yet as we drive away I know I will have a calm in my heart that it hasn’t felt in a very long time.

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