empty nest

Thursday, we dropped our son off at Temple University, for his freshman year of college. It might have been the shortest drop off in history. Prior to going, our son made it clear that he didn't want us hanging around his dorm room, or taking him out once we arrived. At this point in his life, we are a major embarassment to him, despite being perfectly nice people (take my word for it). I really struggled with this, but in the end decided that if that's what it took to make him comfortable in his new digs, so be it.

We arrived on campus a couple of minutes early. Our son actually knew where his dorm was and how to get there. We pulled up to the 15 minute unloading zone, unloaded the car, and I went to park in the visitors lot. I got back to our spot on the curb, made chit chat with other parents for a few minutes. We noted that the freshman girls had all packed enough for 3 dorm rooms, and the boys had packed very little. The woman next to us was dropping her 5th child off, and said it was a universal truth. Boys just don't pack much. Our son had checked in, gotten a cart and ambled down the sidewalk with it by that time. We loaded everything into one bin (with room left over) and made our way up to the 2nd floor. We found his room, took everything out of the bin, hugged goodbye and took the bin back downstairs. We annoyed the boy by waiting until he turned in the bin and got his ID card back before departing. Another hug for each of us and we took off for home. Total time on campus was roughly 20 minutes.

I haven't heard from him since. I know, it's only been 3 days and change, but I was still surprised. No panicked calls about stuff forgotten. No emails or texts. I guess he can manage okay.

As for us empty nesters, we went out for a nice lunch, played a couple of hours of pinball. We've eaten on our own schedule. I have revelled in stupid small things, like being able to walk down the hall to the bathroom in my underwear. I bought groceries and didn't have a separate list of stuff for the boy. I don't have a ton of laundry to do. We had actual leftovers from dinner last night. I can go out on a weeknight and not feel guilty for leaving the kid to forage for himself. I did not get woken up by the sound of size 12 sneakers in the rooms above ours.

And yet. There is a sadness too. I feel like there is something important that is missing. I feel an absence. I think about the kid multiple times a day, and wonder if he is okay. Is he eating? sleeping? has he made some friends? I have checked his dining hall account to make sure he has gotten a few meals. And his paypal account to see if he is running through his cash. I am like a virtual stalker, seeking clues to a life I am now not involved with in any major way.  I hope this is a phase, and I will learn to let it go.

the pain of others

I am dealing with a hard truth these days. Sometimes, the pain of others is harder to bear than your own. When you love someone and you see them suffer, it hurts you. And you are helpless. When you yourself are hurt, you have the activity of dealing with the pain. You contain it, you manage it, you feel it, you deal with it. When someone else is suffering, you are separate from it. Oh, you offer to help. You experience some pain of your own. But you don't reduce their pain, you don't really experience their pain, and in the end, you can't END their pain. And that is just really really hard.

filthy lucre

I am screwed up about money. It has taken me a while to figure this out. Most of my fears are about money, or the lack of it. The solutions I spin out in my head are almost always about money. Finding more, making more, winning some. I think that it's not important to me -- that family, friends, experiences are more important. And it's true that that is what I value most. But money is what controls my thoughts.

I had a terrible couple of weeks. What happened? Absolutely nothing, except that we had no money on hand. I was healthy. My loved ones were healthy. We had food, a roof over our heads. We laughed, ate, had fun. And I was miserable. Flooded with anxiety and worry about money.

I make decisions based on beliefs about money. I should be able to afford this, because I make a good living. So I buy it, even though really, I absolutely cannot afford it. I should be able to have a nice vacation, because people in my bracket take nice vacations. I earned it. That I really truly can't afford it is immaterial. The calculus in my head is not interested in reality. It is interested in perception. I feel really good about my job, my position. Is it because of status? Nope. It's about income. I could do the exact same job, with the exact same title. If I made half as much, I would feel embarrassed about myself and my job. It's ugly, but I've come to see that is how I truly think.

It's a habit, that way of thinking. It has deep roots going all the way back to my childhood. I see that now. I felt money could solve all problems. Money was freedom. Money was control. It was what everyone wanted. I am not sure someone who has always had enough of it would understand how it could become like a god, but it did.


Now I am trying to break that habit, that thought pattern. I am working on it, struggling with it. Trying to break the hold. Have less. Want less. I need to break the tie in my mind between wealth and worth. I need to stop thinking of financial security as control. It's not. I could be rich as Croesus and just as subject to the whims of fate.

We'll see how I do.

ruminations on 50

50!!!!

It is hard for me to wrap my head around it, but I am now 50. If I am really fortunate, this is the halfway point. If I'm not, then I am on the downward slide. It's okay either way. I am very happy with where I am right this minute. I feel better than I felt at 40. I am thinner, fitter, healthier. I am happier with work, happier with home, happier in general. In the last 10 years I have seen my child go from a difficult 8 to a pretty great 18. I've moved to a city I love. We got a dog, who has been a joy more often than not. We've been to Nova Scotia, Belize, Paris, and Rome. We've hiked in the Smokies and gone tubing down a jungle river. We've spent far more than we earned, and enjoyed all of it. I've met some wonderful people, and made some terrific friends. I've lost some people I loved, and some I didn't. I've had a concussion, had my gall bladder out, gotten bifocals, developed arthritis in my hands. I took psilocybin, learned to meditate, committed to Buddhism. I've almost doubled my income. I've worked too much overtime, too many evenings and weekends. I got better at what I do. I've learned to make some great food, and made some whopping kitchen disasters, too. I listened to great music. I've been through two new cameras and two laptops. I have the same car, with more scratches than before. I went up to a size 14 and down to a size 6, before settling at 8. I still can't carry a tune.

I think I'll like my 50s, but I know I love right now.

shifting sands

I feel like this is a summer of shifting sands. Our son is turning 18 in a couple of weeks. He no longer needs me the way he once did. This is the way it should be, and in many ways I am relieved. I want him to be independent, to stand on his own two feet. But I have a habit, the habit of taking care of him, that will take some time to break. And I have loved the role of mom. I know I will always be his mom, but it won't be on the same footing as before. We are shifting, moving toward becoming two adults in independent orbits. One of my oldest and dearest friends is prepping to move across the country. We have never lived more than 10 minutes from each other in our 30 plus year friendship. We will always be friends. I know this. But it will change, the landscape will shift. My husband and I are approaching our 30th wedding anniversary. We are about to be empty-nesters, a couple again, instead of a family of three. I am excited, but nervous too. I have seen so many couples get to this point and falter. My Buddhist practice is deepening, and that too is a change. I have never had a spiritual dimension in my life. I have been very into self-control, and control in general. I thought that through planning, thinking ahead, handling things, I could control the outcomes of things. I realize now that that is illusion, wrought by fear. What comes next will be whatever it is going to be. I am putting my trust in the path, and that is a huge scary leap for me, but a necessary one. And I am turning 50 in less than a month. I don't fear aging like I did. I am actually enjoying it, mostly. But it is a milestone, and a time of reflection. Not "get a makeover, buy a red convertible" time, but just a middle of the road "hmmmmmm?" sort of reflection. Like I said, it's the summer of shifting sands.

reflections

We went to NYC a few weeks ago. I enjoyed it, loved all the things there are to do and see there. I loved the art and the food. But I felt like I had been at an all you can eat buffet, and felt a little queasy and bloated on a surfeit of experience. It really is an adult disneyland, and it really is too too much. I also didn't really like the "me" that the city brings out. Too many people, focused far too much on themselves, treating each other as if they were invisible. I kept thinking "what an asshole!", "what a jerk", etc. My sense of connection to others seemed to become stretched thin and then it seemed to just break. I was so relieved to get home and find "myself" again. Reflection 1 - maybe it is easier to be compassionate when there is more space I had an interesting conversation with a colleague today. My friend is a devout Christian. He saw a copy of the 10 precepts on my office wall, and asked me about it. I told him I was a Buddhist, and he asked quite a few questions. He wanted to know what was up with the "fat guy", did I worship him? We had a nice conversation, even though neither of us could really accept the other's views. I have never had a more relaxed religious conversation... Reflection 2 - it is much easier to deal with opposing viewpoints when you don't have to be right

stuff

I think I've finally reached a point where I realize I have too much stuff. I was looking at my bookshelves the other day, thinking there are books here that I have not touched in years. Heretical thought, but it actually occurred to me that I don't need to keep them all. Maybe I could pare it down to one bookshelf of books -- books I received as gifts, books that I have a deep connection to. And why do I have over 100 CDs on a shelf? I haven't touched a CD since I got my first iPod, over 3 years ago. I have dishes I don't use, clothes I don't wear, movies I don't watch. Why?

I just don't need all this, and I don't even know how I reached a point that I have all of it. Maybe I have just developed the opposite of hoarding -- the sudden realization that all this stuff has a psychic weight. I'm not ready to strip my life down to some cushions on the floor in an empty room. I'm not going to give away all my possessions and live like a hermit in a cell. I like comfort far too much.

But I can finally look at the things in my house, and just see stuff.

still changing

It's been a few months since I last posted, so I thought I'd do a quick update.

I am still sorting through my psilocybin experiences, finding that I am still unpacking and learning from it.

I have become more serious about my Buddhist path. I am still meditating daily and try to get to the Center once a week for an hourly sitting session. I've added a beautiful candle from my sister in law, a buddha from my son, and other personal items to the altar in my sitting room. this room has now become my meditation/sitting room.

Oddly, I almost never listen to music at work any more. I used to be addicted to it, for lack of a better word. I needed it to function, to get through the day. That's no longer the case. I find I am fine with silence now. If I play music, I enjoy it immensely. I just don't need it.

I am still walking 5 days a week, for 40 minutes or so. It appears to be the only exercise routine I can do with any regularity. I just can't seem to make myself do anything else.

I have kept the weight off. I lost 20 pounds last year, and it's still lost.

My struggle with kindess and gentleness continues. Under great stress, I still get snappish. It lasts for a shorter time, and is less severe, I think. I still get angry, but it seems to dissipate into nothing very very quickly.

I am enjoying life more. I think it's because I spend more time being present and aware. I don't really need to know the reason, though -- it's enough that it is.

kind, helpful, true

It's a brand new year. I am not making resolutions, but I do have some intentions for the year. I intend to do just a bit more than last year. Give a bit more, exercise a bit more, meditate a bit more, be greatful a bit more, love a bit more. And i am going to try to practice "right speech". "Right Speech" is the buddhist principle that one should say only what is kind, helpful and true. It is very difficult for me, but I think worth the effort.

simple things

This weekend has been about spending time with family and friends. We had a dear friend visit from Ohio, and got a chance to catch up a bit. I spent a lovely afternoon talking, eating and drinking with some of my favorite people. I spent a lot of time with my husband and son. It was really wonderful. Sometimes, it's not the big events, it's the simple things that make the biggest difference in your life.

Oh yeah, my son says I'm the best cook ever... because of this:

Chicken Curry

1.5 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts, cubed
2 large carrots, sliced
1 large sweet onion, sliced vertically in thin slices
a handful of fresh string beans
3 boiled, peeled potatoes
1 cup of steamed cauliflower (optional)
1 tablespoon madras curry powder
2 tblspoons cornstarch
1.5 tablespoons better than bouillon chicken
1.5 cups cold water
1 tablespoon cooking oil


add oil to hot skillet. Add chicken. Cook on high a few minutes until chicken is cooked outside (doesn't need to be cooked all the way through). Put chicken aside. Add onions, carrots, string beans to the skillet. Saute 5-8 minutes, on high heat, stirring frequently.
slice potatoes and add to the pan, Cook another 2-3 minutes. Return chicken to the pan. Add the curry powder. Let cook another minute. Add the bouillon. Stir. Put cornstarch in a bowl, stir in the cold water, dissolving the cornstarch. Add to the pan, bring to a boil. Add the cauliflower if using. Put a cover on the pan, reduce heat to low. Cook 5 minutes stirring occasionally.

Serve with rice.

refuge

On Sunday, I take the refuge vow at the Shambhala Center.

the vow is simple:

I take refuge in the Buddha
I take refuge in the Dharma
I take refuge in the Sangha

What it means is that I commit to the Buddhist path for my lifetime. It's a big thing, but an easy one. I have already made the same commitment to myself, have been living that commitment for a little over a year. This is just a public declaration in front of the community I am joining. It is a little like a catholic confirmation service. There is no priest, but there is an acharya (a teacher). There are specific words said, and specific gestures made.

I was a Buddhist before the ceremony and I will be a Buddhist after.

community of another sort

Last night, I went on my third weekly visit to the Shambhala Meditation Center. On Thursday nights, they have what they call an "open sit". At 7pm, the large meditation room is open to all who want to come meditate. There are cushions set out in rows, and chairs in the back for those who need them. Their are candles, and incense or scented oil. A "moderator" acts as timekeeper. The person sits facing the room, sounds the bell that starts the time period, meditates, and sounds the bell again at the end of the session (about 45 minutes). During meditation the room is silent, except for the occasional cough, or the sound of someone shifting position. It is quiet enough to hear someone's stomach gurgle in the row ahead of you. It is amazingly peaceful and welcoming.

After the open sit, there is an open house. People drink tea, eat snacks that have been prepared, and socialize for 15-20 minutes. If you choose, you can attend a dharma talk after the tea. These talks are on meditation or buddhist dharma. They generally last an hour.

There is no charge for the evening, although donations are accepted. They just leave out a bowl for this.

I have really gotten a lot out of this. There is a difference to meditating in a room with others versus doing it at home. A different energy? I am not sure really. It may just be the length of time you meditate. At home, I generally do 15-20 minutes. This is 45 minutes. That is a long time to sit, at least for a relative beginner.

The dharma talks have been helpful, and enlightening. Not a religion, but a way of dealing with what is. No salvation, no higher power, no faith. I love the pragmatic, the practical approach that this center takes. It is not so much about the theory, the philosophy, as it is about the practice. "This is the way it is, now what do we do about it" I have not heard anything I have opposed, or disagreed with. I find myself nodding in agreement or recognition a lot. I am in the right place for me, I think.

It feels really good.

the journey continues

I have been to Detroit. To Philly. I'm headed to Charlotte in a few weeks. We're into the college trip/college application process in a big way. It's been a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be.

Our first trip was to Wayne State in Detroit. I really was not looking forward to visiting Detroit. It turned out to be a really fun trip. We stayed in a really plush hotel, nicer than our usual by quite a few notches (thanks Hotwire!). We had a view of the waterfront from our bed. Beautiful. We spent a lovely day wandering around the Belle Isle park. They had a stunning conservatory, and no one visits it. The guard at the desk thanked us multiple times for visiting. The sign in sheet showed we were the only ones. On an amazingly beautiful Sunday afternoon. The multiple thank yous would be a trend. Detroit seems to have so few visitors, and so few residents. Everywhere we went people were gracious, polite, and unbelievably grateful we were there. We visited the Detroit Institute of Art and it was much the same. Beautiful museum, very good collection and very few visitors. We went to a restaurant, Kascent... which we visited because a guy on the sidewalk talked us into going inside. We were one of two tables of people in a restaurant meant to hold hundreds. We had fresh corn muffins, straight from the oven. I had Fried chicken. Greens. Mac and cheese. My husband ate an enormous freshly fried catfish sub, and our son had ribs, with all the trimmings. Our bill was $24. Amazing.

The school was much much better than we expected. The campus was nice, the size (20,000 plus students) seemed manageable. It was diverse, and it seemed that everyone mixed easily. Our son felt instantly at home.

The 2nd trip was just me and the boy. We had a great time. We did a day trip to Philly, to tour Temple University. The school had much better facilities and resoures than Wayne State, but seemed a little clique-y. While it was diverse, folks seemed to mix only with folks like themselves. Still, it was a beautiful place and had a lot of things to recommend it. We followed it up with getting lost, getting lunch, getting lost again. Lunch was dim sum, at a highly recommended restaurant. Food was terrific but the experience not so much. None of the staff spoke English, or understood it. Menus in chinese only. We never got drinks because we couldn't get the wait staff to understand what we wanted. We weren't even sure what we ate from the cart, although it was delicious. I'm not sure I would go back, even with the great food. It was so frustrating not being able to communicate.

In a week we go to Charlotte. I am really excited. We are going to visit UNC-Charlotte, but I am thrilled to have an excuse to visit the city. And looking forward to spending some more family time together. I am very aware now, that the family time we have is growing short. Every time we tour a campus, see a dorm room, I get a very concrete reminder that our boy is moving on, and away. Still, I am going to enjoy the time we have. And maybe I'll get BBQ too.

churning, but not really moving

Sometimes I am really really busy. This is one of those times. At the same time, I feel like not much is happening. I am working a lot, seven days a week most of the time. I have a database re-development, a server migration, a web server upgrade, and a change to our credit card processing, all happening at the same time. It's a lot of effort, and all to crucial systems. It really has to go well, right out of the gate. I don't feel as anxious about it as I normally would, and I am not feeling the pressure the same way. It's not that I don't care -- I really do want it to all go well. It's just that I don't care with the same weight and urgency that I used to have. I guess I finally understand that it's an important task, but it's not earth-shattering. It's not life and death. I have more perspective than I've had before.

We are going to start looking at colleges next week. This is a big year for our son, his senior year of high school. He is working at getting his license, taking a really demanding course load, and is trying to squeeze in some fun at the same time. I want to enjoy the year, and try to savor the "mom" time as it slowly slips away. It's also a year with big tasks for me -- making sure I don't miss deadlines, making sure we see the schools we need to see, talk to the people we need to talk to, and meet our financial goals for the coming year. I haven't felt this torn between my two hats since our child was a toddler. I want to spend all my time on my mom hat, but need to spend as much time as possible on my work hat.

The funny thing is that I know that in six months all the work on both fronts will be largely done. All the "huge" stuff will have resolved, one way or another. In the meantime, I just need to relax and let it flow.

rumination on meditation

I have been meditating daily for more than 6 months now. I don't meditate for long, sometimes only 5 minutes, usually 10-15, first thing in the morning. I used to meditate, sitting in a comfy chair. Recently, I've moved to a cushion on the floor.

Originally, I meditated because it was a requirement for a study I was in. Now I meditate because I seem to need it. When I don't do it, I feel like something is missing. It calms me. It centers me. It heals me. Occasionally, it challenges me.

Sometimes, I sit and nothing happens. On those days, I get 10 minutes of peace and quiet, and nothing more. Sometimes I get an up close view of what I am thinking and feeling, and that's not always a fun time. Sometimes I get insights. Sometimes I just feel happy, or connected, or I feel awash with love for everything. Sometimes, I feel agitated, unable to settle.

Certain patterns have emerged. If I am troubled about a person, even if I am not consciously aware that I am, I will see their face until I acknowledge that there is something I need to resolve, and then it will go away and I can go back to my meditation. I get phrases that crop up -- these are like notes from my unconscious, I think. Once it was a solid week of "body and mind are one". Clearly this was something important I needed to understand. The last day or so have been nested russian dolls, "I am. We are. It is." I am still puzzling out all that I am supposed to understand about that. "It's not about you" was one that was a part of my sessions, but has since cropped up from time to time as I meditate.

Sometimes, I am just sitting there with ...me. I see the desire for attention, or the need for importance. I see pettiness, insecurity, selfishness. I can be stunned by my real feelings, real motivations. I can acknowledge the fear, or anger, or sadness. It can be painful and eye-opening to really see your uncensored self, but it is also illuminating. I had no idea how much I filtered, or hid from myself.

Sometimes there are no words, just a light, and a stillness that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere. Just the now, the infinite moment. In that there is the sound of the insects buzzing, the birds singing, the rustle of leaves, the cool on my skin, the unyielding floor beneath me. I can feel my heart beat, hear and feel my breathing.

It seems to me that an enormous amount can happen, with just 10 minutes of stillness a day.

an interesting ending, a new beginning

Today was my last day in the study. I went for an exit interview, a slew of paper and computer tests, a blood draw, a final meeting with my study guide assistant. I went in at 10am. First up, a 1 inch stack of paperwork. I filled out quality of life surveys, gratitude surveys, attitude surveys, a death perception survey. I filled out general psych surveys. I answered questions about my goals. I answered questions about my general emotional state. I clicked a mouse for long lines displayed on a screen, and tried to NOT click when the displayed line was short. I clicked buttons to cooperate or not, earning fake money depending on which option the computer chose. I filled out more paperwork.

Then I went down to the lab for a blood draw. Nurse 1 kept thumping my veins and shaking his head. He tied the rubber tubing around one arm, thumped, shook his head. Then he moved the rubber tubing to the 2nd arm, thumped my veins, shook his head. He moved the rubber tubing back to the first arm and stuck the needle in. Missed the vein. He tried again. Missed again. Then he called in another nurse. She repeated the routine. She stuck me once, missed the vein. Stuck me again, said she knew she got it that time, but no blood. She called another nurse. She thumped by veins, found one she liked, and got the sample. I recited my mantra in my head, took deep breaths and tried to keep the nurses calm during the whole procedure.

Bandaids on both arms, and feeling like a pincushion, I went back upstairs. I met with one of the psychologists to discuss my overall experience, what I felt I got out of the psilocybin, the meditation, the mantra, the groups.

THen I met with another psychologist, to talk some more about the study. We talked for a few minutes and then the building began to shake. We both thought it was the construction crew outside, colliding with the building. The shaking got worse. A painting flew off the wall, and the file cabinet drawers started rattling. We ran out into the hall, I grabbed my backpack and we headed down the stairs with everyone working on the floor. When we got downstairs, the guard said it was the entire medical center, not just the building. Not a construction accident, a 5.9 earthquake. We stood out in the parking lot, and did more of my exit interview. I took a few minutes to call home, and make sure everyone was fine.

After about 20 minutes, we got the all clear and went back in. I finished up my interview, and met with my study assistant. We talked about different types of meditation, and she had some suggestions for things I might want to try. We hugged, and she walked me back downstairs.

The study was officially over, with a most interesting ending, I think. I certainly will never forget it.

Today was also a new beginning. Now I meditate because I meditate. I use my mantra, because that's what I do. I don't do it for the study, and I won't have guidance, or input, or requirements. It will be what I do because I want to, or need to do it. And it will be something I do on my own. I look forward to where it takes me.

paper losses don't mean much

I've lost about fifteen thousand dollars this week, on paper. S&P cut the US credit rating, and the resulting uncertainty has sent the stock market into a tailspin. I am not saying this because I want sympathy, or because I am particularly concerned. It's a paper loss, affecting money I have never seen. This is retirement money for us, and we are far from retirement age. So really, while I could sit and gnash my teeth, I have only "lost" what I never really had.

On the other side of the world, in Somalia, 29,000 children have died from starvation. 350,000 more are in danger of suffering the same fate. For their families, this loss is real, and immediate, and devastating.

It seems to me that my little loss just doesn't mean much.

not so far apart

from the rhetoric flying around washington, you would think that their is a chasm between those on the right and those on the left. I sit firmly on the left. So I wondered how far apart are we, really?

Here's what I believe --

I believe in strong families. I believe marriage depends on two consenting adults, in a committed, monogamous relationship. I think the raising of children is an important endeavor, vital to the success of our society.

I believe in keeping your word. Pay your debts. Be honest. Live an ethical life.

I believe in hard work. I think there is honor in any job well done. I expect to be loyal to my employer, and expect my employer to be loyal to me. I expect a living wage.

I believe in the American Dream. If I work hard, educate myself, and follow the rules, I should prosper.

I believe all citizens are equal before the law, and in the eyes of their fellow citizens.

I want safety, security, health, a solid future for my child.

The big differences are in the details, I guess -- how these beliefs get translated into policy.

I am willing to pay taxes, to live in a world where what I believe is true for ALL Americans, not just some. I am unwilling to prosper on the backs of my fellow citizens. I don't believe what's good for corporations is necessarily good for the people. I don't believe the wealthy need to be protected from paying their fair share. I want equality for all citizens, not just straight, Christian, born in America citizens.

I guess that's the gap.

some musings on getting older

I turned 49 this weekend. I know I'm not supposed to tell my age, but I just can't see why it's a big deal. It's how old I am. I like being 49. I liked being 48. I am guessing I will like 50 too. Not liking my age would be like not liking my big toe. It's just part of who I am.

The other day, we were having a conversation with our waiter. Our son had turned 17, and our waiter wanted desperately to be 17 again. I thought about it. You couldn't pay me enough to go back to being a teenager. All that anxiety, and uncertainty. Trying to be cool. Trying to fit in. So much fear about the future. No thanks.

While I had a blast in my twenties, I wouldn't go back to that either. Such a manic time. Really high highs, and really low lows. Still not sure who I was, or what I wanted, and scared I wouldn't get it, even though I didn't know what "it" was.

I infinitely prefer the more "mature" me. I know who I am. I know what I want, and what I don't. I have built a life that makes me happy. I am as successful as I am ever going to get, and I am content. I don't need anything, or really want for anything either. My life is full of good friends, much love, and good times.

There are prices to aging. My knees hurt. My hair is turning white. I struggle with my weight. I don't see as well as I did. I can't stay up all night, at least not if I have to get up the next day. I sometimes forget things I want to remember. Perimenopause has been no fun at all. I have to get up at night to pee.

Still and all, I'll take it. All of it is as it should be. A sign that I've been here a while, and have a few miles (and the memories to go with them) on me. At 49, I can say it's all good.

another step on the road

Our son turned 17 yesterday. It's another step on the road to...away. He is job hunting, working on getting his license, looking at colleges. It's all as it should be. On the one hand, I am proud. He's everything I wanted in a child, and he's turned into a good man. On the other hand, I'm a mom. What am I when he leaves home? Intellectually, I know that I'm still me. I know that I will always be his mother. But the day to day part I play in his life will largely be a thing of the past, and relatively soon. And what I know in my mind has yet to reach my heart.

I hope I can manage to approach this year with grace, and with a greatful heart.