Enough to Miss Christmas

Paul was wonderful. He played his part to the hilt and never once complained. It was fun and sometimes comical to see him in such out-of-character situations as trying to assemble a tent or cook marshmallows but he was true to his creed of being "adaptable." Timmy, a squirmy little guy, is hell to sleep with but he and Paul somehow made it. We camped a hundred miles from home on the shore of a pristine New Hampshire lake. Our campsite was large and far enough away from other campers to give us all the privacy we needed.

Karen and I pitched our tent as far away from Paul and Timmy as our site allowed. We claimed their snoring would keep us awake, but in truth I wanted privacy to continue our honesty sessions without prompting the need to explain ourselves to the others. Karen remained obsessively modest, zipping the tent before changing or getting into her pajamas. She even brought her bathrobe! I forced myself not to kid her about it and in deference to her, I too was far more reserved than normal.

Paul took up fishing at the urging of a fellow camper who owned a small boat and although he tried to encourage Timmy, the young boy soon became bored with the quiet waiting the sport demanded. Not so with Karen. To my delight, she loved the challenge, and I'd like to think, the attention of her father. Timmy and I busied ourselves collecting specimens, exploring and hiking the entire circumference of the lake. My stint in Alaska and time spent camping while growing up qualified me as the resident expert on outdoor activities. Timmy was by far the quicker learner. While days were shared as a family, the nights belonged to Karen and me. The most excited camper of all was Woof who loved chasing squirrels and romping around freely with all of his family.

Paul and I discussed how to inform Karen of our intention to have her see a psychiatrist. Given the relationship I'd forged with Karen he thought I could present the idea and coax her to agree. It was the night before my sister and her extended family would join us for the weekend when I first broached the subject to her. She didn't warm to the idea.

"I can talk to you," she said. "I don't need some strange guy. He'll think I'm crazy."

"No, he won't, Hon. And that doesn't mean you and I will stop talking. You can talk to me any time; you know that now. But I'm not a doctor, and I'm sure he can explain things much better than I."