Six towels, new crocs, a lantern, flashlight, a few books and a lot of underwear. I’m looking at the pile of things for Zachary, going over the list.
A month is a long time. Is that enough bug stuff? How about sunscreen? I tell Zachary to grab another bottle, just in case.
Do you have a shower caddy?
He pulls it out.
Stationary- not that he’ll use it- pens, batteries… I don’t know what I’d do without the list from the camp. I think six towels are a bit much, though. Like 14 pairs of socks, they won’t all be used.
I’ve written his name in sharpie all over everything. My fingers are black.
I’ll miss your stinky butt, I told him.
He nodded. I’ll miss your stinky butt, too.
We bumped fists.
Tomorrow morning, one more check through the list. I know he’s ready. Stuff doesn’t matter. He’ll not only be fine, he’ll flourish.
Raincoat, muck boots, and two bathing suits.
I want to tuck a hug and kiss in there. No room. He can’t wait.
I’m going to write his first letter to leave on his bunk.
Seven shorts, 10 tee shirts and three sweatshirts.
I’m so proud of him.
I don’t want to let him go.
Gold bond powder, toothpaste and shampoo.
Tomorrow is drop off for summer camp.