Summer's End

Labor Day beckons those feelings that wash over me when another summer nears its end.   I’ve tasted the saudade of life; the yearning for my childhood when the days would merge into one another and the passing of time was of no consequence.   Labor Day reminds me that it’s time for school to begin and camp to be over.  The Peter Pan in me is tormented by the exit from my favorite season that allows me to never grow up.  

My daughter, her husband, and three children make an annual trek to our family’s summer camp in Cedar Mountain and spend four months there.  In our retirement eleven years ago they became directors of the camp and we became grandparents.   We fish, swim, hike, treasure hunt, write stories, paint, draw, solve puzzles, and play hard with these three precious children who call us Marmee and Sandad.   Some days are filled with complete joy and others with exhaustion.   

At 5:00 a.m. Wednesday morning they left for their journey home to Colorado and the wait for next summer began.  I waved goodbye as their overloaded Suburban plus 2 adults, three children, and two golden retrievers pulled out of the driveway.   Equipped with plenty of activities, snacks, pillows, and blankets, the four day trip across country started.  I said a quiet prayer for safe travels and then for my daughter and son-in-law for traveling with children survival and lastly for my three all so perfect grandchildren that they would not kick, shove, hit, yell, or throw up.

I’d set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. so I could say one last goodbye and woke up at 2:30, 2:45, 3:15…  I wrapped up in a fleece blanket and sat in a porch rocker waiting for the rumble of my daughter’s car, “Thunder,” to roar down the driveway.   

It was a perfect summer.  Happy thoughts raced through my mind as I thought of so many cherished moments.  My youngest grandson learned to waterski and his older brother to slalom.  My little granddaughter finally jumped into the lake and got her head wet realizing it was not so bad after all.   The boys caught lots of fish – all kinds, mostly trout, and one huge catfish and little Alida caught her first fish – a bream.  We paddled Lake Summit and stared at the train trestle that wears years of graffiti and tales of jumping off of it.   There were lots of firsts and facing fears – feeling accomplished and building confidence – being grounded.   All of it reminded me of the independence summer gives you and why I love it and these mountains so much.  

We read Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and corrected each other with her cures for tattletales and cry babies.  We laughed until we cried with the comics of Captain Underpants.  We talked to the man in the mountain with great excitement until the children discovered it was just an echo.  I bought a small Karaoke machine and realized I have three mini camp directors who love making announcements and having Variety Shows.  We watched Parent Trap a thousand times.   We made cakes for all sorts of occasions just so we could bake – and on the day before they left, my grandson, Hawkins, insisted we make one more batch of fudge for their road trip home.   We neatly packed it in a box and I labeled the top – “Emergency Chocolate – take as needed when at wit’s end” and gave it to my daughter.  

Leaving at the end of the season is so hard.  We all cried.  It didn’t start that way, but as we hugged harder, the tears just started to trickle down and my oh so dramatic grandson, Phen, just lost it and tugged at every one of my heartstrings.   We finally parted and promised to hold each other in our hearts all through the school year even though the wait would seem endless.  A shooting star soared across the sky sealing our summer.  

And then they were gone.  There was a stillness that was pure and empty.  The last of the campers, my family, have left and it’s now time to close up the cabins and turn off the water.   Camp is truly my refuge, a place that lets me find myself when it is so easy to get lost in this world. It restores my soul.  I realize that true fulfillment and passion comes from spending time with my family in this summer haven; a bastion of my youth that creates hope and optimism and allows me to see life again through their eyes.   

Missy Schenck
September 2021