Hey guys, the stuff so far is great. If you know any people who are interested, the more the merrier!

This is more of a rant like prose if anything. I wanted to work sentences against each other. I don't want this to become a debate if you disagree, this is based off work experience and more or less breaks my heart to see. A fellow writer once wrote a piece starting with "Dear Mom" and it was an angry rant. This is similar to that.

Dear Parents,

Hello. I stand speechless at the sight I see. Let me start with my story. I grew up going to camp because my parents both worked. During the year I was home, sometimes with a baby sitter sometimes not. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me. They do. Heck, I want to be a writer and they love me (I think). Camp is a second home to me. I adapted to the times because I had to. I had no choice. There was only so many times I could watch a movie or sleep in late and do nothing. Times are different now. I work with your children, and I see you go to work. Dads in business suits, mom’s explaining that the baby sitter is picking up, and scared kids. Kids who cry a river for a moment to hold you. Today, I overheard a child say “My mommy doesn’t have to work; she just hangs out all day and does nothing. It’s like camp for her.” Is this your child?

It stings like a bee during a hot summer day. The kind of pain that hurts more as time progresses. Perhaps I’m just feeling sympathetic. Perhaps I envy your lifestyle. Perhaps I grit my teeth because I expected better. The little kids scream for their moms, the moms too busy to be a parent. The parents who rather enjoy the product and not the making of it. Last time I checked, being a parent was a full time job, no vacations and no pay. You don’t get paid double for overtime or holidays. You don’t get appreciated. Not until they are older, hopefully. They will hurt you, they will disappoint you, they will fall. Don’t add to that by not being there. It’s the only job that I know that people look forward to. I’m a child still, I always will be. They say you appreciate things more after it’s gone. I hope it’s not for you. One day your boy is four years old singing songs and clasping onto your index finger with his entire hand, and in the next moment, he’s seventeen and convinced he’s invincible without your help. He has the love of his life and a mind filled with dreams. He doesn’t want to spend time with you. He’s “growing up”. Where were you when it counted? When he screamed to hold you, to get attention, to get anything from you? Is anything ringing a bell? Anything?

Always,

An Ex-Latchkey Kid