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My 7-year-old granddaughter, Megan, is going on her very first camping trip this week-end. She is so excited that I will be surprised if she hears a word that is said in school today. (They still have one more week of school in our area.)

They leave today after school for the almost two-hour drive to the camp which is near the ocean, and guess what?

Grandma is jealous.

The sleeping bag and clothes have been packed for a week. She has rechecked her little backpack to make sure her flashlight still works and that the extra batteries are there; that her soap and washcloth haven't disappeared; and that her toothbrush and toothpaste are right where she left them. (I don't know what she is using to brush her teeth at night in the meantime, since those two items have been in the bag for a week.)

I went to the exact same camp when I was 13 and it was one of the greatest weeks of my life. I have never forgotten the friends I made there, and the nostalgic thoughts that come to mind whenever I even hear the name of the camp.

Well, Grandma can't go. She is too old to even volunteer as a counselor, but she isn't too old to be excited for Megan and hope she comes home with a ton of her own life-time memories like her Grandma did.

Who knows, perhaps one day Megan will be waving good-bye as her own granddaughter heads off to this magical camp that, unlike its visitors, never seems to grow old.

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