Sunday, March 2, 2014
In six months both my kids will be gone.
By "gone" I mean moved out and on their own living far away continuing their education beginning a new phase in that self-sufficient independence we've been training them for since they were born.
How did this happen?
This is one of my favourite photos of our kids. On a sunny July morning, getting close to almost a decade ago now, we crossed the Confederation Bridge from Prince Edward Island to New Brunswick nearing the end of a Maritime family vacation with terrific friends and we all remember it so, so fondly.
This day especially. My daughter appeared that morning wearing that pink dress I don't recall ever seeing before and it startled me for a moment because she didn't look like such a little girl anymore and yet she moved along our walk on that red-sand beach that morning like any child would, discovering this, discovering that, laughing, playful and carefree. A little later that morning my son barfed in the parking lot of a Tim Hortons and then once more into a Tim Hortons bag while we were crossing the bridge in this photo; perhaps you should know that there is no possible way a person can pull over on the Confederation bridge. A total trooper, he didn't complain, just barfed like barfing was the equivalent of sneezing. I do think he felt a lot better although he barfed again in a Canadian Tire parking lot about an hour after this photo was taken. (Could this anecdote possibly be more Canadian?) He was ok, we figured it was just too much sun the day before because later we ate ice cream and watched the tide come in at the Bay of Fundy.
It was the perfect day.
I love change. As much as it cranks the heat up on my anxiety it also energizes me. I believe it is essential to growth, to creativity, to happiness. I know my kids must go. There have been times where I couldn't wait for them to go. I admit sometimes I have counted the days. But today, I am counting again and there just aren't enough left and for some reason lately I have these moments where it's like someone is wringing my heart like a wet cloth.
Like all memories though there's a message inside. I need to think of this like a sneeze. This ache will pass like too much sun. There are many more days to come. I will try to live for the present and with hope for the future like I always have like I hope I taught them to do too.