Posts Tagged With: missing

shattered

Sometimes I want to drop things in the kitchen just to see how they shatter.

Which is ridiculous, because I know that I would/do squeeze my eyes shut when something falls — pull back your feet as fast and as far as you can without falling, close your eyes, tense your muscles, hold your breath.

When something does fall and shatter on the tile floor in the kitchen (whoever thought ceramic tile and glass/china/ceramics/stonewear would do well together?) I sometimes wonder if I willed it let it happen.

I suppose that might be a superpower that would come in handy — speedy like Yoyo in S.H.I.E.L.D. or one of the many Flashes that are running around in the D.C. Universe. Fast enough to catch that falling piece of history before it’s destroyed, or even fast enough to make time pull backwards a little bit.

We all know that’s not possible but if we retreat into our heads for a bit there’s the chance that we can at least get a glimpse of the people or things that have been crushed and lost to us. Sometimes that slight spark of a bright remembrance can make things even worse but on occasion it can be the very thing we need to get us through.

If you are feeling a loss this holiday season, be it fresh and stinging or aged and nagging, I wish you the help you need to make it past the darkness; I wish you the ability to find the brightness in the memories that will warm your heart; I wish you love and light.

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Categories: family, loss, love, memories, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

empty bed

BoyGenius is away at camp this week. Sleep-away camp, for the first time ever. I knew he would be fine, I knew I would be fine, and I knew HardWorker would be beside herself with anxiety and worry. (She was so beside herself that it was crowded here for a couple of days — she has since gotten better.)

I had no reason to believe that he would be homesick or feel out of his depth or anything at all like that. I know he’s having a blast (thanks to the modern miracles of INSTAGRAM and Twitter). Dropping him off on Sunday evening was fine for me, fine for him, and a huge deal for HardWorker. I had read her The Riot Act on Saturday and repeated it on Sunday morning: “You’re not going to say anything about him missing us (or the cat) or feeling homesick. You’re not going to tell him how bad you’re going to feel because he’s away. You are absolutely not going to suggest that if he feels like coming home all he has to do is text and you’ll come pick him up.” She thought maybe she shouldn’t come along to drop him off. Then realised that she’d probably do worse alone at home. It was hard work getting her to leave him at camp, let me tell you.

My mother asks everyday if there has been any word from BoyGenius. She asks every day if I miss him. I’m having a hard time convincing her that I don’t. That’s right. I don’t miss him. Like I said, I know he’s having fun, a fantastic childhood summer experience. I know he is secure enough in our love to just be able to enjoy himself. I am secure enough in both his love for me and my love for him to not miss him. He’ll be home tomorrow, for crying out loud. It’s not even a full week away. When I was 8 years old my brother BlueEyes (who was 12) and I went to Germany on our own. Sure, we had relatives meeting us and we were staying with them, but we flew across the Atlantic alone — and changed planes in one of the busiest airports in Europe. When we were only a few years older my parents put us on a cross-border Greyhound to visit friends in New Jersey for a week, and BlueEyes and I took the commuter train from Paramus into Manhattan almost every day — on our own. We went to see a show at Rockefeller Center, we went to the outside observation deck of the World Trade Center, we shopped in Times Square. Did my mother miss us those times we were away? She says she absolutely did, but I don’t think it stopped her from carrying on normally. We were responsible kids who were totally secure in and with our family units. I like to think I am raising my son the same way.

Do I miss him? Not in the way you might expect. Listen, when he’s been here this summer, he’s been in the basement most of the time. I’ve been able to build him a corner desk unit for his gaming computer — something I would not have been able to do had he been lounging around down there. I’ve done some laundry, baked a cake or two, been able to gloss over lunch and dinner since I didn’t have to worry about feeding him — so in other words, it’s been a pretty normal week for me. I am not feeling an empty space in my heart. I am not sad that he’s away, because I know that he’ll be home tomorrow. I am not worried about him because I know who he’s with and I know he’s having fun. So no, I don’t miss him.

I do notice his empty, nearly neatly made bed every time I walk by his room, though.

BoyGenius is totally asleep, on his stomach, with his left leg bent at the knee so his heel is touching his butt.

So instead of seeing this (yes, this IS how he often sleeps), I am only seeing the empty bed.

Categories: family, love, memories, parenting | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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