This afternoon as I was driving toward the school to pick up a carload of middle school kids, I realized that it’s May and that soon and very soon it will be June which will bring Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year.
And then it’s all downhill from there.
My baby boy is a junior in high school and in a blink (and a year), he will be graduating. For so long, we’ve just been circling around in the same routine but before we know it, some in our circle will exit the orbit and move away from us. From me.
Right now, I feel disbelief at the ending of an era. In other words, I am embracing denial. I am stacking denial up in blocks and hiding behind it. We will continue in our routines. I will pad around the house as usual, turn off the lights in empty rooms and wake up the next day to rinse and repeat. And I will cook dinner, over and over and over again, in the cursed Groundhog Day kind of way.
In the meantime, Summer Solstice approaches. The countdown to summer break is in the weeks, not months. The Big One is coming, that quake which will shake us all up and break us apart and scatter us around. But not too soon. I’m not quite ready.
(Then there is the other part of me that dreams of an empty nest, who fantasizes about being alone within these walls, uninterrupted as I putter and sort and organize and clean and finally get around to watching the television series I missed because I had kids to put to bed at 8 PM for so many years. I am not so nostalgic that I don’t want them to ever go–just GO–but change is always unsettling. And I’m not sentimental much at all. But to think of my baby boy leaving my house for the thrill of college and the beauty of the big wide world? I miss him even though he’s just upstairs right now, sleeping.)
In the words of Maurice Sendak, “Oh please don’t go–we’ll eat you up–we love you so!”
5 thoughts on “The wild rumpus”
The quake has already happened here, and scattered us about.t. The only one still left here is my baby who turns 22 today. It remains to be seen how long he will stay. My oldest lives about 45 minutes away, is married with 3 kids. We see them only a couple times a month if we are lucky as they have busy, busy lives. 2nd son lives in Cambridge England with our soon to be new daughter-in-law. They are getting married this summer in her hometown in Greece. Sadly all of us will make it except the oldest. We have not all been together since 2011. Daughter has spread her wings all the way to Bozeman Montana, so all things mother/daughter never happen other than a phone call here and there. That quake hits you before you know it
GRANDKIDS…yes you will start all over again :0( or :0)
I feel your pain. But when you have done your best – have trained – have loved – have shared your heart – the bond will always be there, and life will even be better.
I feel for you, though, as I cannot even imagine life without your baby boy in the house. He adds so much humor, joy, and playful spirit to the household. Live. One. Day. At. A. Time.
Empty nest? I used to wonder about that too. Doesn’t happen much around here. Neither does clean nest.
I’ve been de-cluttering for a week. Our school day ending has become fungible, negotiable, spongey–but no need to save homeschooling supplies any more. Now we drive toward the “services cliff,” post-high school, where support falls off.
There is a sadness to the end of every school year, but a lightness of being, too. “Time is a river we go a-fishing in.” It does not circle; it does not stand still.
This week my baby nephew moves to Denver for a job. Tears and letting go.
Willy-nilly, we are headed toward the doorway of heaven.