She didn’t like goodbyes. She would rather be the leaver, than the one left. She’d rather create dust than eat it. She’d rather recreate out of nothing than be stuck holding the bag. And here she was with her husband, repacking their bags into the rental car with all the kids’ things set up in their dorms. Now they head to an airport 150 miles away, and then on to a tropical island 1600 miles away, returning to a nest that would demand new meaning.
They’d delivered their two youngest to the boarding school where they had met and fallen in love. Their oldest was already at college in California. The two lovebirds, he and she, drive south with broken hearts along the Meritt Parkway. Shadows of themselves travel towards a life resembling early retirement, an end to a not long enough chapter. She wishes the road would go on forever. She dreads the miles it will take to stop the ache of this new transition. From family to couple, from mother to wife, from face-to-face to FaceTime.
Her life’s work, their creations and manifestations, the products of sweet love and sincere attention, now live in dorm rooms with roommates. She knows they will find friends, friends on the same journey. She knows they will eat in dining halls, not at kitchen tables, and wait in line for their food with trays in their hands. She knows they will try out for teams, they will join clubs. She knows they will have their phones at all times of day and must find self control to control their access. She knows that their shades will be drawn so they will set alarms, no longer sensing sunshine’s morning presence. She knows they will create their nine month home away from home with the tools that they’ve been given.
They arrive after their long journey. The tears they’ve shed haven’t cleansed their ache. Their dogs greet them with wild tails and wet noses, then look past them and beyond their bulky bags, waiting for what’s missing. When do they understand it’s just her and him? They are all looking and waiting, the two leggeds and the four leggeds, for the new normal to arrive.
A phantom limb, a new crack that climbs the wall, a movement out of the corner of her eye. There exists a missing she can’t claim as real, but she can feel. The old rhythms of morning hugs, meals together, packed lunches, rides to school and pick ups, no longer mark her day. The tiny loads of laundry taunt her. Noises carry. Time greets her like the plains of a pioneer woman.
She is left to the rest of herself, a vast ocean gets more vast. She refuses to feel smaller or less than, but she struggles for meaning and how to meet the tide. She chose children over career, and still counts those blessings. But not yet in her golden years, she challenges what others claim will soon shine golden. The lustrous web she wove now stretches from coast to coast to coast, and leaves her struggling with her present post.
She feels so far from heartbeats.
Dear reader,
This is a piece I worked on with my writing group. The prompt was...
"She didn't like goodbyes."
You can clearly see the theme I'm working with, the undertones of launching children, soon to be followed by second honeymoons (I promise our itinerary will be shared on this here blog!).
I hope these words give those of you who need it some company in your new phase of life. For those not on that ride as of yet, may both the minutes and the years before the gears shift move gracefully.
With loving surrender,
St. Sunshine
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