Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I listened from the middle of the living room floor, sprawled out like a fallen oak on a mossy knoll, resting a while in the midst of this week of packing up for college the two remaining kids — a task filled with all kinds of emotion. The ol’ push and pull. Excitement, and some degree of a feeling hard to put to words. Not sadness. Not loneliness. They call it “empty nest” but I’m not a big fan of that one. This is what is supposed to happen. It’s a beautiful thing, change is. It makes the air crisp, and the landscape clearer.
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was on my way to my class reunion, a hometown gathering I’ve been unable to attend for all kinds of reasons for three decades, and when the invitation came a year ago, I didn’t hesitate. It was “yes.” I could go, at last, and it was time to go back to the town of my childhood, and mingle with those people who knew me then. We’d played together, walked to school together, watched each other grow. I wanted to see their faces again, hear their stories, look into their eyes.
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Been a lot going on, yard work and family gatherings and lists all over the place — one for dorm supplies, one for new clothes, and toiletries, school supplies and forms to fill out. Check. Check. Check. Two weeks or so now and all three will be gone, and until then, the days are rich and fill. Funny how you seek out quality time as the days grow few, but true quality time can’t be slapped on the calendar; it comes of its own accord, unplanned, like a purple cloud sunset or a wild horse galloping by. You do the work you need to do, and if there should be confetti, let it fall.