Summer in – and out of – the city
Abby started camp this week that’s about a 30 minute ride from our house. It’s in the woods, but after visiting it myself, I wanted to go.
She’s come home filthy – but happy – every day. My sense of fun tells me not to sweat it but my sense of order and cleanliness is appalled and in conflict.
My memory of camp is a 3-day bivouac while in basic training and a 15-mile forced road march. I remember on Day 2 discarding my underwear for fear of a disease that might not go away.
I don’t think I’ll share that memory with her.