There and back again
I do not think I have done many things more difficult than sending my daughter off to camp for a week in the Magdalen Islands (Le centre nautique de l’Istorlet on Havre-Aubert). It is difficult to let somebody you have been protecting and guarding go off out of protective range and left to her own devices … for a week … without any contact. I am not trying to compare myself to “America’s worst mom” , but it was tough enough to send her away with adult supervision for a week to an island (well, archipelago is probably more accurate) and not hear from her for a week.
The picture (above and to the left) of her leaving for camp shows a couple of things: she has already made a friend and is leaving hand-in-hand with her new friend; and she is not even slightly hesitant or showing any desire to look back once she took the first step toward the boat. I now have a more perfect understanding of what it means to have an experience be bittersweet. I could not be more proud of her being able to go off by herself to a place where she will speak nothing but French for a week, but would it have been too much for a father to ask to have even a brief backward glance? Just a little glance would have been okay.
So off she went. As much as we could do to research the camp (we went to the information session and talked to other parents who had children attend) it was still traumatic. As you can tell, it was a far bigger deal for mom and dad than it was for daughter.
Nonetheless, we survived and I was gratified to see her come back happy, tanned, and full of stories. She even managed to run the last few metres to greet me. I managed to maintain my cool just long enough to take a picture (on the right) and then dropped all pretence of cool and gave her a big hug. I continue to wrap myself in the comfortable knowledge that this was a great experience blah blah blah … she is more self sufficient blah blah blah … she learned a lot blah blah blah … and so on.
The truth is that all of these reasons are spot on the mark. She did many (nautical) activities she had not tried before and had fun. We had a great time spending some “alone” time with our other daughter. I am filled with a newfound (and possibly illusionary, but I do not care) feeling of being a good father. And, best of all, we are back to “normal” with the exception of the girls’ bedrooms; they have been torn asunder to improve them and paint them pink. Life is good.
