my first baby had his last first day of school yesterday.
I’m in a large transition, to what? crone? to powerful woman in her late forties who is embarking upon a boat trip down a river? am i finally katherine hepburn? Do i learn how to run the boat? if only i had her trousers.
i spent most of the day trying to figure out what to do with myself. i had work at two, and the gaping maw of time was not my friend. i got too sweaty in the garden, i couldn’t tell if it was excessive humidity, excessive weed-angst, or a hot flash. i had a piece of cake. i watched godawful people on tv. i cried, i wept, i wondered if it is fear that was compelling me to tears or wonder. i thought about my baby as a baby. it all had little to do with the magic of the children. they are doing all that they are supposed to, living wildly and growing and stretching towards the sun. sunflowers.
the recognition, in me, of the changes, in me, the letting go of small threads of an identity which i’ve had for almost twenty years. (and hello, there are more kids at home so i have more years still) its just the beginning of an unravelling.
(and yes, i am more than curious about what becomes of this pile of thread. there is so much to be created, and in truth, it is where my upset lies. upset=turmoil, but not necessarily bad juju, you see?)
it is another stage of adulthood, and like menopause, its a bigger deal than i’d understood.
and so, today i woke to an empty house, as they are at their dad’s. and a rainstorm and a nervous dog, and a remembrance that there is a sleeping bag out on the clothesline. so be it. things are wet now.
i’ll dry out too, to a degree, but these days of mothering and being so central to the lives of other people, on such an immediate, all-consuming basis? they are changing, and the weave is loosening.
i’m not sure what i’m falling into.
love you guys.