Saturday, November 17, 2012

night light of the empty nest syndrome

I tell her to record the screams, the laughter. One day she will want to return to this place.

How old is your's? She asks.

He'll be twenty-one Monday, I try not to say it with the beat of a heavy drum as if one day she may miss them so bad she won't even dare say it.

Not all the time, I should explain but don't.

You can distract yourself.
you will. it is survival.
you'll tell yourself this could be the best time of both your lives.
you make yourself believe it.

Imagine how much time you spend thinking about them, attempting to control them, grow them, get all the information in. We'll do camp this week, photos tomorrow. Did you brush your teeth? Which book would you like to read? Only two friends can come over, okay three. Drink this. Eat that. You know it's past your bedtime. Okay, a glass of water but that's it. 

School tomorrow.

A blanket fresh out of the dryer on an especially cold morning.

This morning I am grateful the dryer just stopped.

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