Page 17 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction

So, as I lie here in bed waiting for the kids to wake up screamingwith excitement about the next eight weeks at summer camp, I remember those two conversations: the one with the Fahertys in Charlotte and with Ava at home in my room. This summer in Canopy is a gift, and as long as I can get through this morning drop-off, I will be able to bask in the glory of just being me for the next few months.

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Two hours later,the kids and I are standing behind the SUV doing a final review of all their camp luggage—trunks, duffels, pillows, portable fans, and creature comforts to last the summer—which is all staged on the driveway. I let them both get their trunks out of the car yesterday. Casey, her boyfriend, and I had struggled to get them in in the first place, and now I’m wondering how on earth I’ll manage this on my own.

About the moment I consider knocking on the door of the neighbor whom I haven’t yet met for help, Josh pulls up in his truck.

“Need help?” he asks after seeing our predicament.

“Yes, please,” I reply in a grateful tone. “It’s always easy to get these trunks out but much harder to get them in.”

I bend down to grab one side of the first trunk, but Josh waves me off. In one swift motion, he grabs both sides of the camp trunk and hoists it into the SUV. He repeats it again for Ava’s purple case.

“Dude, you’re strong,” Benji says, impressed by the quick work.

“I work on construction sites some days. I lift a lot of crazy stuff that I probably shouldn’t. These are easy,” Josh responds.

We do one last verbal inventory of what’s crammed into mySUV and the kids are finally satisfied that we haven’t missed anything. Josh is hanging close by, ready to help if we need something.

“All right, guys, I think we’re ready!” I say with forced excitement.

“Take care of my mom,” Benji says to Josh in a serious tone after we close the liftgate. He’s pointing at him and raising his eyebrows. This is Benji’s no-nonsense expression.

I throw a glance at Ava to commiserate at the latest ridiculous thing to come out of Benji’s mouth, but now she’s looking at Josh and adding care instructions.

“She works too hard. If she looks stressed, ask her if she’s had enough to eat.”

“You two make me sound helpless. I’ll be fine, and Josh is not here to take care of me. He’s here to make our house look spectacular.”

Josh fist-bumps Benji and says to both kids, “Don’t worry—message received.”

I mouthsorryto Josh, but he just smiles as he walks toward the house. The kids are overflowing with adrenaline for camp, and before I’m even fully in the driver’s seat, Benji pulls himself halfway out of his already-rolled-down window to yell goodbye to Josh.

“He’s really nice,” Benji begins. “I’m glad you’ll have a nice person around all summer to hang out with. It’s important to have friends around.”

“I didn’t see a wedding ring on this hand,” Ava chimes in.

“Ava!”

“It’s just an observation, Mom. Don’t freak out.”

“I appreciate y’all worrying about me, but my job this summeris to finish my book. My job is definitelynotto make friends or worry about the marital status of the people I meet.”

“Don’t be so strict with yourself, Mom. Please have some fun. If your letters to camp are all emo, I’ll make up an excuse to leave early,” Ava says. “And maybe go on a few dates this summer. There’s a whole new batch of people here!”

One of my biggest concerns after Ben died was parentifying my children. I’ve spent the last year hyperfocused on their health and wellness. Home-cooked meals despite the fact that I hate to cook, showing up to sporting events, helping with homework. I made sure all of those parent jobs were fulfilled by me, and I didn’t ask them to grow up too fast. Benji has always been a little adult, but I didn’t want him to go overboard. Driving in the car now, I’m wondering if I still somehow failed at this.

“We just love you and want you to be happy,” Benji says tenderly. Both kids get a little soft in the last hours and minutes before camp starts.

We stop for donuts on the way, and after thirty minutes, we arrive at Camp Canopy Valley. A mile-long gravel driveway leads up to acres of open space, a lake, cabins, and lots of activity huts. This is kid heaven.

Within thirty seconds of pulling into our parking spot, a SWAT team of teenage and twentysomething camp counselors rushes to the car. Benji jumps out and heads to the back to play foreman, instructing the counselors which trunks and bags go up the hill to the boys’ side of camp and which go down the hill to the girls’ part.

First, we walk up to Benji’s home for the summer—his cabin is already full of loud boys unpacking their clothes and towels in avery disorderly fashion. Ava and I help Benji make his bed with his favorite superhero sheets and get him settled in. A few minutes later, he’s shooing us out. I sneak in for a few last big hugs and kisses before leaving to take Ava to her cabin.

“By next year he’ll probably be too old for his superhero sheets,” I say wistfully as we walk back down the hill.

“Probably, but it’ll just be some silly cartoon or anime theme after that. It’ll still be cute,” she says back, trying to make me feel better.

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