Hip shake

We went to camp last weekend. It was 20 kinds of wonderful with whipped cream and sprinkles.

Something happens to Selam when she’s there. She is just home, in a way that no other place (except for our home) is home for her.  We were in the dining hall a mere two minutes when she left my side, and began making the rounds, greeting all the adults that she knew, and a few that she didn’t.  I was still talking with another adult when they started serving dinner.  I turned around, and there was Selam, standing in line with a yellow plate and confident air. After the meal, she jumped into the center of the dining hall floor and alternately danced alone and played trucks with Will. A familiar counselor picked her up to twirl her around the floor (is there anything more delicious than being pulled up off your feet?) and she squealed with delight. I was catching some photos of this when a different counselor–one I’ve never seen did the same, and she just as happily leaped into his arms. At the campfire, she broke free and wiggled to the front row, making frequent excursions to the back for snuggles from me.  She is just home there; comfortable. Is it because I’ve been there so often? Because her grandfather is a beloved volunteer (there’s even a sign up in his honor)? Is it the common ground that families share? I don’t know. Whatever it is, she’s moved in, rearranged the furniture, picked some curtains, and forwarded her mail there. She’s home.  Continue reading