
Welcome, Autumn. Little bits of beauty everywhere. This was just something that I saw the other day on a picnic table at a park in Ashland, Oregon that I liked. It has nothing to do with the post that follows.
This is how the world changes.
This is the moment when something shifts.
A busy courtyard.
Twilight.
One last hug. A kiss on the cheek.
Then one more, because I am not quite ready to let go.
He walks away, back toward his dorm room.
We walk the other direction.
Back to the car. Back to the freeway. Back up the 101 North for thirty miles or so to a clean, comfortable, older motel where we will spend the night before heading home tomorrow. It’s too long of a drive to manage both directions in one day.
You often don’t see these moments coming, the ones that change everything. Dropping a child off at college for the first time is an obvious one. More often, they hit you by surprise. It’s the phone call in the middle of the night, or a call from your doctor about results from a blood test or mammogram and can you please call them back as soon as possible?
The morning after we dropped my son off at college last week, I woke with a raw ache in my heart. The ache took a few hours to hit me; I was mercifully in a state of a shock after we first left him. Also, I was very tired. I somehow managed to keep the grief away. But then (of course), it hit. From now on, things would be different. And what had happened to all the years when he was with me? They were gone. They had passed. And sure, I was there with him, and we were together, but sometimes I was distracted. Sometimes, I wasn’t “there” as much as I wanted to be. Continue Reading…







