It’s Tuesday and I’m writing. Thank you Two Writing Teachers for the writing nudge.
I miss the noise, the mess, the piles of laundry, the skinned knees, bruised feelings and grumpy faces. The chocolate faces that scrunched up as I wiped them clean with wet washcloths.
The smiles that revealed missing teeth. The sleepy eyes. Even the stinky diapers. Well, maybe not those.
The first steps and first dates and last days at home as we filled the car with what you needed for dorm living.
The nest is empty. It’s real now. Your visits home are brief- just long enough for the house to come to life and dishes to pile in the sink. You leave before I get too used to the fullness and rapid-fire updates and happy banter. For the best. Somewhere in my aching heart I know it is. For. The. Best.
I’m leaning in… to knowing that we’re now in the season of short visits. You’ve spread your wings. I’m finding my steady.
There you are cooking for yourself, paying your own bills, folding your clothes, changing your sheets. You are, right?
For so long you were the one learning how. How to walk and talk. How to play and read. How to get along. How to dream. How to shovel snow and load the dishwasher and roast marshmallows. How to plow through hurt.
Now it’s my learning turn.