I wrote this last Saturday.
The seasons have changed again.
The trees are full and the bugs are out. I am mourning my third season of broke ass central air.
When the season changed in the Fall, I felt anxious. I didn’t want everything to die. I didn’t want to be cold and have those white knuckled drives into work through snow and ice. I didn’t want to have to live with the daily fear of my son, the new driver, traversing roads in those same conditions.
I wasn’t ready to let go. But there is no choice, is there?
We are in the season I so badly want to cling to. I find I am in the same place I was when the leaves were falling.
I’m afraid of this up coming season.
Where will I be when Joey starts his senior year?
I will be coming to terms with my baby becoming an adult.
While I truly am excited for him and for us about this next phase of life, I’m already feeling some of the sadness.
I know that I will either experience a breathtaking high or a crushing low by the time Joey goes back to school in the fall. There is no in between here. This event will take place. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe, not until June.
I fucking hope it’s tomorrow. I am so goddamn tired of waiting. I have gone from being so sure I would make a nice leap forward in my writing career to resigning myself that I experienced a fluke and I would have to continue moving forward the hard way.
Either way, by the end of the Summer, I will have my answer and I will be a slightly different person. I just don’t know which direction I’m going yet. I’m not even saying one direction is bad or a failure, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I will be disappointed if my news isn’t positive.
And with that, I make up for having an entire Facebook career without once vaguebooking. I can have one blog post like this, though, right?
Besides, I’m gonna spill either way, however it turns out. I just want an answer first.
I’m drinking the whiskey that a high school friend brought me when she came to see me in Listen To Your Mother. The weather is muggy and I’m wearing my monkey pajama pants that I’ve had for nearly 20 years now.
I looked up at the clouds and thought, “Wow. It looks like that cloud is flipping me off”.
Then I cocked my head to the side a little. I had completely missed what the cloud looked like. It wasn’t a middle finger. The clouds where in the perfect shape of a bearded man blowing a streamer. I even saw the colors. The colors were like one of those cheap, liquor store streamers that are made of gold and purple cardboard.
I mentioned I have had some whiskey, right?
Anyway, I saw the old man with the party streamer and before the wind whisked him away, I thought You know what? It’s going to be an amazing Summer.