The excitement of May, with its promise of holidays for our children, always transports me back to my own younger days. Summer camp, as the eager youngsters called it, was a family gathering that brought together a diverse group of children, some as young as a few months old. Being ten siblings, not all married at the time, the camps had two phases, and in the first phase, our nieces and nephews eagerly anticipated these reunions.

Somehow, I managed to fit everyone into my Gypsy, along with two bicycles and luggage. Once we arrived at the holiday home, the atmosphere was one of freedom and spontaneity. No particular schedule dictated meal or bath times, and activities like fishing expeditions or cricket games were filled with laughter and friendly arguments.

A shared bathing experience at the well became a lottery system to determine the order. As the final days approached, pleas to the gods for an extended stay were common. I took on the role of divine mediator and granted their wishes, sending the youngest off to pray at nearby crosses. These moments allowed me to relive my youth while witnessing their joy.

On their departure, some took a stone or leaf as a souvenir to preserve cherished memories. Now, all from the first phase have grown and some are scattered across the globe. I hope they still treasure those moments spent together.