We drove Jonah to Boy Scout camp yesterday. His camp's claim to fame is that its lake was used as the set for the Friday the Thirteenth movies. That factoid was more amusing to the parents than the kids, who never heard of Jason.
I'm missing my kid this morning. As a big brother of a kid with special needs, Jonah plays a big part of this family. For years, only Jonah and I understood Ian properly. Even Steve needed some help with the translation. When Ian had a meltdown when the sun was too bright or the sounds were too loud, Jonah could calm him down. Jonah kept me company, when we couldn't leave the house and I was excluded from the parent cliques. Later, he has become Ian's best friend and companion. Our weekends revolved around Jonah's sports and playdates, because there were none of those nice things for Ian.
I know that this is too much responsibility for a 13-year old and I've tried to make sure that Jonah has his own life. I've tried to shelter him from the disappointments as much as I could, though I couldn't stop all the hurt. Jonah was crushed when his little brother couldn't go to the same elementary school as him. There was no way that I could make that disappointment any better.
When I left him at the camp, he gave me a good-bye look, rather than a kiss. He's 13 after all. Then he scampered off with this buddies to take a swimming test and to make plans for the fishing badge. He forgot about us right away. As it should be.
This morning, I studied the weekly calendar, which was nearly empty without Jonah's plans to occupy us. I need to make some social plans for Ian and myself. I'll get a lot of writing done. I have to make sure that it isn't too quiet.
Apt. 11d 