Miss Them Already

I'm so sad right now I can hardly move. It's dark in my room except for the glow of my computer screen. The ceiling fan is stirring the mostly still air although an occasional puff of evening coolness drifts in through the window. This is silly, I tell myself, it's only four days. I'll be busy with work two of those days and I have numerous little projects around the house to finish up plus a social engagement on Saturday night. Not that I haven't been known to let a weekend pass with accomplishing little more than catching up on sleep, watching a movie or two, and lingering leisurely over some really good coffee. Maybe wearing my jammies most of the time. But tomorrow morning my boys are leaving for a long weekend with their father. And I miss them already. But they love seeing their cousins and other extended family members and that is now their father's territory. It used to be mine, too, and I suppose that's part of why this feels so strange. They'll have a good time and they'll be back Monday evening and have stories to tell and pictures to show me. Pictures I still have a hard time looking at because they represent a life that is mine only in the past. There is a great-nephew who is two and a half years old now that I have never laid eyes on. Though I remember his mother newly pregnant with him and queasy three years ago. That was my last trip out to visit that side of the family. Before the crap hit the fan. Before the counseling. Before the divorce. Before the moving on. My children are the bridge between this former life of mine and the current. They are the best and brightest thing that remains from my marriage. So I do my best to be happy for them and keep this sadness to myself. Because my current life is the result of decisions made by me. Incremental decisions from five, ten, even fifteen years ago. The cumulative effect being the here and now. Which my sons deserve to experience in the most unaltered way that is possible. Even if I can't go there with them any more.