First day

AUGUST 23
The Taste of Sky

 Of magic doors there is this, you do not see them even as you are passing through. —ANONYMOUS 

Often as we are being transformed, we cannot tell what is happening.
For while in the midst of staying afloat, it is next to impossible to see the ocean
we are being carried into.
While struggling with the pain of change, it is often impossible to see
 the new self we are becoming.
While feeling our hand pried loose by experience, we seldom can imagine
what will fill it once it is opened.
As the days rinse our heart, we can feel something unseeable scour us through,
Though we can't yet imagine how much fresher milk and sky and laughter will taste once we are returned to the feel of being new.

*Sit quietly and bring to mind a struggle you are now experiencing in your life. 
*Breathe through this struggle and bless the buried part of you just waiting for 
its turn in the world. 

from The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo
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I am not, nor have I ever been, a person who likes change.
Today all of my emotional receptors are askew.
I am weepy and feel at a loss as to what to do with myself.
Truthfully right now I am trying not to outright bawl.
He is eight and started third grade yesterday.
She is five and started kindergarten today.
And I find myself back on my own, alone, after 8 years.
I was ready for my 8 year old grandson to go to school.
For the last two weeks of Summer he has been a royal pain in the butt.
Argumentative, mouthy, not listening, pouting...he about drove me mad.
He was bored most likely.
We had done everything I could think of all Summer long and there was nothing left to do.
I told my husband it felt like we skidded into the end of our Summer sideways with a screech, lurching to a halt only because we were done.
Just completely done with all of the activities.
During the last 4 days of their Summer Break we took these two boating and fishing,  played Mini-golf, ate ice cream, had a sleepover at our house, and took them over to play with their cousins. (our other two grandkids)
Simply put there wasn't anything left for us to do.
So he got bored and cranky, loudly complaining that all he wanted to do was watch Netflix.
She played with her dolls and Barbies and her kitchen, making elaborate meals with plastic pieces of vegetables and fruit, while he sat with a mutinous expression on his face in the recliner and pouted.
I told my husband "I won't cry when HE goes to school".
He was so awful and argumentative and combative that I wanted to give him a good kick in the pants.
On his first day of school, he kissed me good-bye and took off for the playground and his friends without a backward glance.
And that is how it should be.
Since he started yesterday, her and I had one last day together.
So we went grocery shopping and I let her pick out what she wanted for lunch...
Elbow Macaroni and an apple juice box.
This morning she went to school happy and excited. No tears or hanging on.
Which is also as it should be.
I made it back home, and to the Chiropractor and back home again before I started bawling.
My house is just. so. quiet.
I look around and see toys and books and dust bunnies.
I know I have a load of laundry to do and I should really mop the kitchen floor.
But my heart feels sore. I am adrift, with a sense of no purpose today.
So I am going to just let myself feel this sadness.
To allow myself to feel this change and know that it is ok to cry and mourn the passing of time.
I will find my purpose, I will find ground to stand on again but today,
this first day,
I am going to allow myself to feel this and acknowledge what feels to me like a loss.
Later on I will look for my buried self and reclaim my place in the world.
But not today.

Today, on this first full day of school, I will pick them up at 3:30 with a smile on my face, happy to see them both again.
We will come home and have a snack and play outside or maybe ride bikes for a bit.
Then tomorrow we'll do it all over again, and again next week.
And I'll keep doing what must be done despite my sadness or rather in spite of my sadness.
Can I just say eight years flew by!
Hell, for that matter 30 years flew by.
Which reminded me of this little poem-





Thanks for reading,
Love, Lolly