I have spent my summer driving to places that I myself have no interest in going. The horse barn. Downtown to drop kids off for a movie or a shopping spree. Across town to an art camp. To Eastlake for a kid’s therapy appointment. Airports. Its amazing when I think how much time I spend in the car, hours lost listening to b. o b feat for the 900th time. With kids home, the things I need to do must be crammed into strange half hour slots of waiting between picking one kid up and dropping off another. Ah, the life of a summer parent.
Its lovely to see everyone out, smiles on faces thanking the sun who always manages to bring out the best in us all. And yet, that same sun also seems to stoke that tiny little ember of loneliness in me. Every year, I think I am past seeing the dads riding bikes with their kids, families in a car packed to explosive on their way to some remote trail, couples strolling a beach hand-in-hand. I think “damn,” another summer of warmth and smiles without him, without anyone, (besides my near perfect children of course) to share it. And I think, after all these years, really? I’m still at this place? That’s when that bully sh-sh-should creeps up behind me and boxes me on the ears. I hate that guy.
I shake him off, kick sand in his eyes, but he’s like that one tiny mosquito that finds your ear in the middle of the night. Persistent. I should be over it. I should be with someone. Arron should be raising his kids. I should be a better mother, as if I even knew what that meant.
I know all the advice. I am actually falling asleep every night to meditation podcasts. How 2010! Calming my mind. Getting in touch with the source. And yes, OK, its helping. But damn it if I don’t wake up at 6:30 every morning with that damn sun in my eyes.