Grabbing my cell phone, I discover that it's only 4:23 a.m. WTH.
I laid there for another 10 minutes, willing myself to surrender to zzzzz's. Nothing.
I head downstairs to the coffee pot. Mornings are so yummy quiet. I decide to brew some of the new flavored coffee I'd bought at Home Goods recently, "White Christmas." Mixing it with regular brew, I was eager to grab that first cup and head to the dark stillness of the living room that we've made into a makeshift office/reading room/hideaway. It has a great cozy feel.
The flavor of the coffee was not what I'd hoped, but it wasn't bad. Weird aftertaste.
Scanning photos on my computer from the past few Christmases while I sip my coffee, I decide that I probably need to decorate sometime over the next few days. My two oldest sons will not be home for Thanksgiving this year (sniff), and we're headed to PA on Friday to help Gavin move into his new rental home. His lease was up on his current rental, which he'd outgrown. I'm told Phelan, his Alaskan Malamute, is loving the new digs. I traditionally decorate beginning the day after Thanksgiving. I crank up the tunes, mostly instrumental holiday -- George Winston, Mannheim Steamroller, Windham Hill -- and the fun begins. But this year I'll need to start a few days earlier.
(Incidentally, some holiday songs are very annoying. It's why I stick to instrumental.)
I fight an emptiness. I tell myself this is normal. A lot of "women" go through this as their children leave home. Thank goodness for my gym membership. Working out is my lifeline through the muck. People need to know this. Get moving, people. This too shall pass.
Japan is too far away. I can't just hop on a plane and go visit him.
And Gavin works crazy hours, rarely getting weekends off, spoiling my hopes of visiting with him more often.
And Colton -- who feels "left behind," his words -- doesn't seem to want to be around me much. He's still in that phase. So I wait. Hopeful.
It's okay. I will get through the melancholy. I always do. I'll redirect my thoughts to other people who need love and friendship and caring this time of year. Filling their void will help to fill my own.
3 comments:
I'm stalking you today apparently . . . :)
Being a mother! It's fantastic. But I feel just as you have described here. I feel left behind sometimes. I'm not. Your son is not. We all just change. It's good.
We're alone for Thanksgiving this year meaning no kids, so we're going to a friend's for Thanksgiving which I've NEVER done. I'm looking forward!
And yes to the gym . . . as I have been rediscovering. For me, right now, it's rowing and lifting. It's all good for me. And I'm doing my t-Pretty squats in my office. You'd be proud how much you are in my head!
Smooches my creative and thoughtful friend.
I know what you're talking about. The days of being so needed, they're fleeting, but when we're in the middle of it, we have no idea. How could we? Motherhood is feast or famine. They go from needing you, wanting so much, to being gone... there is no gradual release of motherhood. You will survive friend, because your rock is a mighty one. xo
Deborah, I appreciate your comments, all of them. I will look forward to some day sharing Thanksgiving with friends, should my family all be "out of reach." I think I worry most about Colton, keeping tradition strongly in his life while he's still here with us. Yes, that's definitely my biggest concern. You've shed light for me in that regard...oh, and keep up those office squats! Proud of you, girl!
Alexandra, you're so right. No gradual release of motherhood. My "emptiness" vacillates daily. Yes, it sneaks upon us a bit too suddenly, and it stings. But I got this. My rock. Absolutely right.
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