does quentin have a home-made first aid kit?
It's two days before we take Syd up to UNT, and Steve and I are in Target, getting the last things I think he may need for a dorm room.
"Lotion?" I ask. "Is buying him lotion too creepy?"
"He's not going to need lotion."
"I will get him a little travel size, for the first aid kit I'm making," I reply.
I looked at first aid kits, then decided I should assemble one. I had the fleeting thought Martha Stewart probably has a link for one. She does. Martha Stewart first aid kit. Quentin is an eagle scout. I didn't want Syd to seem unprepared.
I pick out a desk lamp. Then I pick out several for me, and put them back, and then look them over again.
I am stalling. Because if we never leave this Target then I don't have to take Syd to school.
"I need sugar-free jello," I murmur.
Steve humors me and pushes the cart around, and suddenly I feel very old and not ready and wonder if we did anything quite right as parents. Why am I wasting time in Target when I could be at home with Syd.
Oh, that's right. Because Syd is not at home. He has been home 1/8th of the summer, between endless night outs with friends, work, and day-long hangs with his girl. So there is no Syd to go home to. It has already begun.
"I think I need to get him one more hand towel," I say quietly.
Then, "I need to make him a care package to leave in his dorm room as a surprise." This takes twenty more minutes.
We get home. My desk lamp is really cute. I have a little desk in a nook in our bedroom, where I can pray and journal. I feel a lot of that coming on.
Move forward a week, and Syd is now gone. I want to go in his room. I don't want to. I cry when I think it will be Thanksgiving before he sleeps here again. Today I go into his room to organize and clean what's left. The dog just sits in the hallway and cries. He did this as well when Syd was packing up.
I think he feels the sharp sorrow in my heart when I open the door. The dog and I are connected like that.
We have face timed with Syd twice since Sunday. It is Tuesday. I know it will be less and less but there are still a few things to work out. We will see him in a month.
I have to fight being sad at the end of the night, when I pull back the covers and climb into bed knowing everyone is home, or will be by midnight. But tonight one is missing, and will continue to be missing. I don't know what to do with that right now but cry.
No one said it would be this hard. No one said it would feel like grief. Even though we are so proud and excited for our blonde, handsome, funny, joyful artist, I will still miss him enormously.
I'm going to write more. I have started watching "The Good Wife". I will do a screenwriting Master Class to keep my brain engaged. I will care package my heart out. I will continue with my starvation diet.
I will kiss and hug Ben more than he wants it. I will hold onto every moment of the next three years with him. He has already acquired a mac book, and a whole, somewhat dirty, bathroom. Benefits of being a single child at home.
Some day we will find our new normal. And then it will go away again. And we will again find another new normal.
This seems like a good time to sing Barry Manilow's "When October Goes" but I will spare you the you tube video. Unless you really want to see it. When October Goes
That's all I got.
"Lotion?" I ask. "Is buying him lotion too creepy?"
"He's not going to need lotion."
"I will get him a little travel size, for the first aid kit I'm making," I reply.
I looked at first aid kits, then decided I should assemble one. I had the fleeting thought Martha Stewart probably has a link for one. She does. Martha Stewart first aid kit. Quentin is an eagle scout. I didn't want Syd to seem unprepared.
I pick out a desk lamp. Then I pick out several for me, and put them back, and then look them over again.
I am stalling. Because if we never leave this Target then I don't have to take Syd to school.
"I need sugar-free jello," I murmur.
Steve humors me and pushes the cart around, and suddenly I feel very old and not ready and wonder if we did anything quite right as parents. Why am I wasting time in Target when I could be at home with Syd.
Oh, that's right. Because Syd is not at home. He has been home 1/8th of the summer, between endless night outs with friends, work, and day-long hangs with his girl. So there is no Syd to go home to. It has already begun.
"I think I need to get him one more hand towel," I say quietly.
Then, "I need to make him a care package to leave in his dorm room as a surprise." This takes twenty more minutes.
We get home. My desk lamp is really cute. I have a little desk in a nook in our bedroom, where I can pray and journal. I feel a lot of that coming on.
Move forward a week, and Syd is now gone. I want to go in his room. I don't want to. I cry when I think it will be Thanksgiving before he sleeps here again. Today I go into his room to organize and clean what's left. The dog just sits in the hallway and cries. He did this as well when Syd was packing up.
I think he feels the sharp sorrow in my heart when I open the door. The dog and I are connected like that.
We have face timed with Syd twice since Sunday. It is Tuesday. I know it will be less and less but there are still a few things to work out. We will see him in a month.
I have to fight being sad at the end of the night, when I pull back the covers and climb into bed knowing everyone is home, or will be by midnight. But tonight one is missing, and will continue to be missing. I don't know what to do with that right now but cry.
No one said it would be this hard. No one said it would feel like grief. Even though we are so proud and excited for our blonde, handsome, funny, joyful artist, I will still miss him enormously.
I'm going to write more. I have started watching "The Good Wife". I will do a screenwriting Master Class to keep my brain engaged. I will care package my heart out. I will continue with my starvation diet.
I will kiss and hug Ben more than he wants it. I will hold onto every moment of the next three years with him. He has already acquired a mac book, and a whole, somewhat dirty, bathroom. Benefits of being a single child at home.
Some day we will find our new normal. And then it will go away again. And we will again find another new normal.
This seems like a good time to sing Barry Manilow's "When October Goes" but I will spare you the you tube video. Unless you really want to see it. When October Goes
That's all I got.