It’s something early in the morning – I always wake up between 4:30 and 5:30 these days – and the loudest noise outside of my head is the aquarium filter pouring water down into the tank. The goddamned thing serves as an eternal reminder of my failings as a fish caretaker (the louder the splashing noise gets, the lower the water level in the tank, the longer it’s been since I’ve tended to it), as well as an aural diuretic. I find I finally re-fill and clean the tank when my trips to the bathroom, spurred by the sound of cascading water, number more than three an hour and I can get nothing done at my desk. Meanwhile, the fish is now about the size of a teacup Chihuahua, and stares at me all day through his crate the glass, fish eyes filled with recrimination.
You were going to train me, weren’t you?
Do you know what it’s like having only you as my entertainment all day long?
Is my staring disturbing you? Sorry – it’s just me pining for fresh water, mental stimulation and an owner with a heart.
A while ago I bought him a live plant. It won’t stay grounded in the black rocks, and so floats around, generally catching on one of the fake outcroppings in the tank. His own Hanging Garden. As that’s more gardening that I’ve done for myself in years, I’m considering this “effort” on my part. It’s a gesture, but also a start. He and the dogs are going to be my only company in just a few weeks. Best start making friends with him.
It’s been a busy year with my boys, filled with college visits near and far, and SATs; of school acceptance and rejection letters; of teen dramas ranging from predictably stupid to serious; of hordes of kids staying here for days and even weeks on end; of graduation. Of preparing for them to leave. Of trying to understand how they could possibly do that, and how I could possibly survive it.
Today Jake leaves for a 10-day medical “internship” course – 7:00 am to 10:00 pm every day, shadowing doctors though hospitals, observing surgeries, taking part in lectures on everything from current trends in medicine to medical ethics. Grown up stuff, all preparing him for his current chosen path of medical school. He’ll be going to Temple University in Philadelphia, far from home, where he’ll start that journey and see where it takes him.
Max will be going to Lynn University in Boca Raton, even farther from home. That he’s made it to college is a testament to his spirit – not everyone makes it back from all the learning issues that follow an injured brain and go on to college. He, too, will see where that takes him, but he’s always known he wanted to live where it’s warm, has always hated winter, his Paraguayan blood apparently appalled at the cold. I’m not sure what career choices he’ll make, but I suspect he’ll be moving with the sun. He’ll return home for holidays and vacations when there aren’t other plans with friends, but he won’t be coming back for real, for good.
This is the “beginning” that everyone’s talking about in the college brochures, commencement speeches and cup-of-coffee chatter. The beginning of two new adult lives, of two people’s impact on their world moving forward, of trips far away with their own friends, of their own making, of their own plans. The beginning of steps toward their own homes, filled with their own partners and memories and dreams. It’s the beginning of life far from each other, something none of us can comprehend. And it’s the beginning of “mom” being an ancillary role of ATM, logistic and phone support, but not a regular fixture. It’s the beginning of the rest of my life without them, at least on a daily basis. And I have no idea how to do that. No idea how to move forward, no idea what to do without my family.
So maybe it’s time to start writing again during these early morning hours, if only to give my fingers something to do besides hold on for dear life, white-knuckling my way through the next weeks as I prepare to give away with a smile the only thing I’ve ever really needed. It’s deep and dark at this divide, and whatever’s on the other side is likely going to be a pretty steep uphill. I’m winded already.