confessions of a maybe concussed head
Today I fell off a step stool and hit my head on a table. I feel like this gives me an excuse if my writing is off because I'm still determining if I have a concussion. I still hadn't determined it by the time I was to make dinner, so we went to Lowe's to shop for a few Christmas lights and then to Taco Bell. I seem to be getting better and so here I am, still alive.
I've written a lot about the grief of an empty nester, a term I still hate. But I think I've turned a corner. I bought this cookbook and have finally begun to see the joy in life again.
I'm doing all the selfish things you can do when it's only you and your mate. I'm buying expensive cheese. I'm buying the blue cheese only I will eat. I'm buying the Swedish dishcloth, and also one for my mother-in-law Bev because she also likes a good sponge.
I've gotten used to getting the attention at the dinner table and having the ability to get up at 11:30 p.m. to watch TV and not have someone playing an assassin's video game in my living room. Son number 2 you know I love you.
I've been carrying around an angel tree slip so that I can buy a Thomas the Train toy for a 3-year-old boy. I don't know, maybe I'm trying to hold on to time. But mostly I just want some really special kid to have a really special toy.
I hope this is making sense. My head is still throbbing and these may be my last words.
Ben will be home in 7 days and Syd will be under our roof then too. I will feed them frozen hot chocolate, and also meals that feed 4 or in their case, 6. Maybe we will get a Christmas tree and maybe we will see a movie.
But what I most want to do is look them in the eyes and hear what's going on in their lives.
There may be 13 people at my house for Thanksgiving. I get to be the captain of my food army next Thursday, and leader of the parlor games that night, but by the following Monday it will be quiet here.
I will go back to making up my grocery list for two, and I will go back to conversing with my dog.
And when the grief comes for me I will be okay with it, knowing it's not here to stay.
I made a stew from my cookbook last night, while Steve was buying his Christmas present of UT basketball tickets.
He sits at the counter now while I cook, making the space cozier, and I notice less the empty space beyond him.
I've written a lot about the grief of an empty nester, a term I still hate. But I think I've turned a corner. I bought this cookbook and have finally begun to see the joy in life again.
I've gotten used to getting the attention at the dinner table and having the ability to get up at 11:30 p.m. to watch TV and not have someone playing an assassin's video game in my living room. Son number 2 you know I love you.
I've been carrying around an angel tree slip so that I can buy a Thomas the Train toy for a 3-year-old boy. I don't know, maybe I'm trying to hold on to time. But mostly I just want some really special kid to have a really special toy.
I hope this is making sense. My head is still throbbing and these may be my last words.
Ben will be home in 7 days and Syd will be under our roof then too. I will feed them frozen hot chocolate, and also meals that feed 4 or in their case, 6. Maybe we will get a Christmas tree and maybe we will see a movie.
But what I most want to do is look them in the eyes and hear what's going on in their lives.
There may be 13 people at my house for Thanksgiving. I get to be the captain of my food army next Thursday, and leader of the parlor games that night, but by the following Monday it will be quiet here.
I will go back to making up my grocery list for two, and I will go back to conversing with my dog.
And when the grief comes for me I will be okay with it, knowing it's not here to stay.
I made a stew from my cookbook last night, while Steve was buying his Christmas present of UT basketball tickets.
He sits at the counter now while I cook, making the space cozier, and I notice less the empty space beyond him.