It is Wednesday evening in Clayton, Georgia. We are seated around a crackling fire as the sun dips behind the rolling hills. Cater has bow-drilled for us, built the flames until we feel heat licking up our legs. Everyone’s eyes are closed, focus on our individual breaths. I can hear the pop and hiss of escaping steam from the firewood, the rhythmic inhales and exhales of the parents who have traveled here to participate in our three-day Parent Workshop.
- Our breathwork is coming to a close. I ring a chime. Eyes begin to open.
- “Now,” I say. “Take a look around and make eye contact with those in this circle.”
- To my left, a dad begins to cry.
- “It feels so good to be here,” he says. “Finally, we’re with people who understand how hard this has been.”