It’s December 30th and Maddie is at winter camp. She loves this camp so much that as soon as she gets home she starts the countdown until next time. Last year was her first time doing the winter session, and after two years of balmy weather, a cold snap that particular week took us both by surprise a little bit. The whole time she was gone I worried that she would be warm enough. She managed, apparently, by wearing everything she could pile on. But she was cold.

It’s cold again this year, and although that didn’t come as a surprise, I didn’t help her pack that much because I wasn’t feeling well that day, so I have no idea if she packed gloves or a scarf. I know she has a down jacket, hats, and Uggs, though, so I think she’ll be OK. Still, I couldn’t help hunting down a pair of gloves and enclosing them in a box with some Cheetos, M&Ms, and glow sticks for New Year’s Eve. I hope she’s happy! Last year’s care package was a big pile of new wool socks. Not very exciting apparently, but I was in a panic about her survival, I guess, so I overnighted some directly from Amazon. I now imagine her delight at receiving a package followed by bewilderment upon seeing what was inside. Apparently the other kids got cookies and stuff. Oh, well. I try.

So today I’m thinking a lot about Maddie in her absence. I know she’s having fun. I hope she’s staying warm and dry. I hope she got her care package today and was delighted instead of deflated by the contents. I hug her in my mind. I tuck her in and kiss her at night. She’s not here, but I feel her anyway.

It’s pretty quiet around here. Mellow. Easy. Frankly either kid without the other is easier than both together, so I try to enjoy the quiet. I asked my son if he missed Maddie. I was joking. He just laughed. Fair enough.

But when Maddie is away, I really do miss her. I miss her in the sense that it’s weird for her not to be here, but I also miss her liveliness, her spirit, and her sense of humor. I imagine she’s yelling “CAMPFIRE!  I LOVE CAMPFIRE!” as loudly as she yelled, “I GOT A CAT BAG!” when she opened the cat-tapestry duffel bag my mom made for her Christmas gift. Oprah-style yelling. Or “HOLY bleep!” when she opened the box of maybe 60 rolls of duct tape I gave her, which, incidentally, she packed in her CAT BAG! to take to camp. It was so heavy that I sneaked a few rolls out before she left. She had to carry that thing quite a distance to her cabin. She didn’t care when she packed the bag, but she might have cared halfway to her destination when a heavy bag, a rolling suitcase, a sleeping bag, and her backpack might have suddenly become too much. Hopefully, though, she didn’t look in the bag and think, “Hey! Who took out that fourth roll of blue I packed?” I wouldn’t put it past her.

Last summer on the last day of camp, I showed up for the usual end-of-week celebration. In the first 30 minutes, at least two people asked Maddie for duct tape. She had come prepared, and she had now become The Girl with the Duct Tape. It’s nice to have a recognized role in society, isn’t it? Especially when it’s a helpful or meaningful one. I’m so glad she discovered the importance of duct tape! I imagine her at camp now, rolls of duct tape around her arms as far up as she can comfortably wear them, always at the ready for a repair or prop construction, feeling like a queen because she really matters. I love that thought.

As this cold and wintry week continues, and the year 2015 is wrapping up, I anticipate Maddie’s return with somewhat mixed feelings. It feels right to have her home. The dogs will attest to that: when the pack is together, all is right in the world.

But two days after she gets back, school starts again and so does the stress that comes with it. I know it’s coming. I’m thinking about that knowing now. Knowing. Maybe I can find an ironic sense of comfort in the knowing, even though I’d prefer the truth to be otherwise. I know what’s coming, though. I do. Perhaps I can relax into the knowing, the predictability, and just let it go. At least for a day. And let 2016 start off in the best way possible, with a lot of love and appreciation for my kids, and a mixture of optimism and acceptance for whatever is to come.

And a lifetime supply of duct tape.