Repeat: Separation, Part One

Like last year, I am not writing my blog right now because I need to navigate the twins returning to college. I scheduled these posts so the blog wouldn’t be empty and I could have space to process my feelings. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

I don’t even know how to begin this. I could take it back to the natural start, our cells, our DNA. I spent the earliest hours of the morning dreaming about brightly-coloured, twisted ladders.

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The first time I met Josh’s grandfather, I was sitting beside his chair and I remarked without thinking, “oh! You two have the same hands.” It made him so happy that I noticed, that I had picked up without prompting this trait that they shared. It meant something.

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I am waiting to make a left turn, an anxiety-inducing left turn across many lanes of traffic. As I wait, I can feel my lower teeth pressing against my upper lip. This is not my stress reliever. I crack my knuckles. This is a face I have seen my daughter make as she concentrates, a monster grimace, a nod to one thousand Halloween Frankensteins. I have co-opted the face that I love, the one that is so completely her own invention. It is traits moving backwards. Mannerisms on rewind.

Read the whole post here.