>Anne Lamott writes in “Bird by Bird”, and I’m paraphrasing, that it is difficult to write on Mondays and it is especially difficult to write in December because December is a month of Mondays. I have found this to be so, especially this December.
Tomorrow my son leaves for college. It has been a whirlwind last 5 weeks (last 5 months!), but it has all been good, even the bad, even the worst, was good. To say I have mixed feelings is so cliche, but cliches are cliches for a reason. And so it is that I have mixed feelings. I swing back and forth between being so proud of him and being stark raving terrified for him at any given moment. The scariest part is the hoping, but I’m trying to stay brave and hope even though being skeptical and doubtful feels much safer emotionally. Realistically hopeful. That’s what I work to achieve every day.
My daughter and her husband are in escrow and expect to close on January 19th. It is an exciting time for them and while I’m thrilled for them, I worry about the economy and I’m concerned that one day she’ll wonder why she never got out of this little town. I hope she stays as happy as she is right now, but I know that life doesn’t let you rest on your laurels. I work at taking my thoughts captive and try to stay focused on the part about how she’s close and if they have grandchildren I’ll be able to dote on them and be a big part of their lives. Jesus taught that it is best to spend your time counting your blessings and rejoicing in what you have, not worrying about tomorrow and things that may or may not ever happen.
My house that has been filled beyond capacity for several months now is about to be roomy again with just my husband and me rattling around, or apparently, at least according to him, running around, naked most of the time. (A man’s gotta have his dreams.) At 47, I doubt I’ll ever “run” around naked ever again unless a hungry bear is involved. Sashay slowly sideways into a dimly candlelit room is about the best he can expect now. I blew my best naked running around days on having babies and breastfeeding.
We add to our canine herd a 6 month old labrador puppy, Georgia, who already has eaten a couch cushion. Georgia is sweet as sweet can be, but the labrador god is a very harsh and demanding god and he sends little labrador puppies to teach us not to be too attached to the things of this world. I gaze around with wistful resignation at my various beloved belongings wondering which one will be sacrificed next on the altar of chew toy. On the plus side, our daughter will take with her the one fat labrador and then just possibly my husband and I will be able to keep our larder better stocked with butter.
I would like to get on with it and start writing about middle-aged married sex and the empty nest and I will just as soon as I have some and I have one.