So many countdowns continue. Finals begin today, the last stretch before that child/man finishes school. The stack of books/clothes/towels/buckets/pens/flashcards grows bigger as I keep packing for Odyssey. My to-do lists are still entirely unmanageable – but they are down to two. Two pages.
I’m not good at countdowns. I get tense and teary. This is the last week of school. This is the last time I’ll have to clomp downstairs, refraining from morning grumpiness, and say: “Hey, you planning to go to school today? The bus leaves in 12 minutes!” (Actually, I have five more chances to say that.) Last things bug me. I’m positive that next Monday morning I will even be sad when the little rat puppy wakes me for the “last time” (meaning until I get her back in six weeks).
Good things just should not have to end.
When I was very young, it was a great treat to go to a real swimming pool, the kind at the YMCA, and swim for 50 minute sessions. I spent the whole 50 minutes dreading the end of the session. I couldn’t enjoy it at all. I fear that tendency is still inside me. I start worrying about saying goodbye almost as soon as I say hello. I am so afraid that I will miss the wonderful parts of the next few days and the summer with Daniel in my dread of his leaving, that I’ll focus on the end of the summer instead of today.
Right, get a grip, says the rational part of me. Daniel is a success. He’s moving on to the triumphs and happiness (and responsibilities and credit card payments) of adulthood. He may even find the love of his life soon. For me, Odyssey will be terrific, probably life-changing. Rat puppy will go off to her show ring and glory. The house will survive for six weeks. The rational part of me has a somewhat nagging whiny voice.
The rational part of me is kind, though. It’s okay for me to be sad, it says. About serious things and silly things.
(The rat puppy, Curie, is actually a gorgeous little creature. Her real name is Dark Skies Cherry Bomb, and she’s the descendant of many champions. One of my favorite things about “owning” a basenji is the great amount of information out there about the various lines and recent history of the breed. The African Stock Project, which was an effort to increase the genetic diversity in the breed by importing stock from, well, Africa, is very well documented and fascinating. Curie’s father is also a champion lure courser, and his daughter seems to have his speed and agility. Basenjis are stubborn and opinionated. She fits in well in this house.)
I’m not good at countdowns. I get tense and teary. This is the last week of school. This is the last time I’ll have to clomp downstairs, refraining from morning grumpiness, and say: “Hey, you planning to go to school today? The bus leaves in 12 minutes!” (Actually, I have five more chances to say that.) Last things bug me. I’m positive that next Monday morning I will even be sad when the little rat puppy wakes me for the “last time” (meaning until I get her back in six weeks).
Good things just should not have to end.
When I was very young, it was a great treat to go to a real swimming pool, the kind at the YMCA, and swim for 50 minute sessions. I spent the whole 50 minutes dreading the end of the session. I couldn’t enjoy it at all. I fear that tendency is still inside me. I start worrying about saying goodbye almost as soon as I say hello. I am so afraid that I will miss the wonderful parts of the next few days and the summer with Daniel in my dread of his leaving, that I’ll focus on the end of the summer instead of today.
Right, get a grip, says the rational part of me. Daniel is a success. He’s moving on to the triumphs and happiness (and responsibilities and credit card payments) of adulthood. He may even find the love of his life soon. For me, Odyssey will be terrific, probably life-changing. Rat puppy will go off to her show ring and glory. The house will survive for six weeks. The rational part of me has a somewhat nagging whiny voice.
The rational part of me is kind, though. It’s okay for me to be sad, it says. About serious things and silly things.
(The rat puppy, Curie, is actually a gorgeous little creature. Her real name is Dark Skies Cherry Bomb, and she’s the descendant of many champions. One of my favorite things about “owning” a basenji is the great amount of information out there about the various lines and recent history of the breed. The African Stock Project, which was an effort to increase the genetic diversity in the breed by importing stock from, well, Africa, is very well documented and fascinating. Curie’s father is also a champion lure courser, and his daughter seems to have his speed and agility. Basenjis are stubborn and opinionated. She fits in well in this house.)
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