Daryl recently attended a summer camp out of state with a friend. His dad told him to be sure to send us a picture every day.
By the end of the first day, there was no picture. No surprise.
“Where is today’s picture?” I asked in a text. “How was it?”
He responded the next day with this:
That was it. No text, no nothing. What a punk. I said as much in the conversation that ensued.
(My husband responded first. I was calling my son a punk, not my spouse.)
That was Day 2 and the entirety of the conversation. Notice he left me hanging.
Day 3 brought more silence and no picture. I gave up. You honestly shouldn’t expect much out of a thirteen year old boy.
And then, nearly 48 hours after I asked my questions, he responded, “Yeah, it was cold and sometimes scary.”
Then… then… he sent a picture! Unprompted! And it wasn’t of his feet in socks he’d probably been wearing for several days. It was an honest-to-goodness quality picture of a creek surrounded by trees from a hike he had gone on.
He topped it off by carrying on a conversation with his dad about the hike and what he had purchased as gifts for his siblings. When his dad told him he loved him, Daryl responded, “I love you too.” And that’s when I knew.
The boy was ready to come home.
He’s typically an aloof child and not very expressive of his emotions. But one of the best things about him going on a trip like this is the quality of hug I get when he returns.
He actually hugs back instead of waiting patiently for me to finish and he’ll stay in the hug as long as I want. For minutes even. I sometimes wonder if he’s just being tolerant of his mother. My husband is pretty sure that he does it because he needs the hugs too. Which makes me all sorts of warm and happy inside.