Getting care packages at sleep-away camp felt like getting hugs through the mail. Gum, games and Mad Libs equaled instant, albeit fleeting, popularity. Now, from upstate New York, I return the favor to my mother at her senior residence in San Francisco. Dried apricots, bagels and lox, and masks show my love, but they cannot replace real contact, nor clear California’s smoky air. Midway through summer camp, we’d watch each parent’s car pull up to find their camper. Hugs during those reunions were big and long. Please, are we midway through this ordeal yet? — Melissa McNeese
