It's that time of year again - diabetes camp! And we are in year 5, baby.
You can read about Year One, Year Two, Year Three and Year Four. All of them were grand.
This year's camp moved to a different location. It's all good. Grace had to get used to a new cabin, new counselors, new cabinmates, new dining hall, new well just about everything. But one thing remained - her friends. So, move the camp all around - the friends are what holds you to the place.
It was reuniting with her DBFF (Diabetic Best Friend Forever) the indomitable Lily. Hugging and running and hugging and giggling and laughing and whispering and catching up. Just like they never left each other's side. It is grand to behold, the traditions these two have. They eye roll together, they smile at the same things, they chuckle and get the inside joke together, they snark together.
In all, it's wondrous.
And this year, five years into it, I leave her and I tell her to have a blast. I don't worry that she won't be taken care of, those waters are under the bridge. I know she will have fun. I know she feel a part of a community that I don't belong to. I say goodbye and give her kisses and tell her I will miss her sweet face.
I don't remind her to check her BG.
I don't tell her to text me or call me if she has a problem.
I don't tell her to ask an adult for help if she needs it.
I don't tell her to remember her snack in her bag.
I don't say those things because I don't have to.
It's a relief not to say them. It's a relief to not worry.
But I don't want her to think that's all I do all the time with her, worry. Because I don't. It's just that I never get SIX WHOLE DAYS of it. In a row. And that's different.
She sees it on my face, my intuitive girl. She tells me on the way back to the car, after we have made her bed in her cabin and gotten her squared away, 'Have fun Mom. Sleep.'
I smile, because I will.
Have fun at camp, sweetie.
Sleep, eat, play, swim, zipline, commune.