The blues have set in a little early this year as I dropped my daughter off at the airport shuttle. The sun is shining but it only reached 20 degrees today and more cold and snow on the way. I enjoyed it more when my kids were here together. I’m sure they are happily on to the next thing in their young lives and glad they are no longer under a parents thumb. Like that ever happened.
The minute you bring home a baby, the letting go starts with each hurdle and “first” they try. It’s practice for the endless swinging door that becomes your heart. They don’t really explain that well in the birthing classes. You stand at their door, gently pushing while whispering “bring it on life”. It becomes a shout by the time they are teens. Then poof, it’s all done and they are swimming up stream. Thankfully, they still come home to feed and show off their spawn.
It’s not like parents don’t have a life, it’s just a feeling of whimsy. Fleeting and dear. A little respite of remembering, what it used to be like. It’s the magic and mystery of being a kid again. We all want to go back there at times, and as I watch my children mature it gets more and more elusive. No wonder we start whining about grandchildren! We want that fountain of youth.
I like Bridget Jones Diary because it always cheers me up and makes me laugh (and I get palpitations and hot flashes when gazing upon yummy Colin Firth) that someone else thinks the way I do…some times. Life goes on, and on. Might as well make the best of it and have fun. But just in case…I went and got a bag of books at the library. Just in case. An instant party with my friends.