Next Time

Herself likes to know the Next Time.

When Herself says goodnight to the Offspring who are in the house at any given time, she says, "See you in the morning."  When she drops them off, at school or some other appointed venue, she says, "See you this afternoon/this evening/[whenever she will return to fetch them]."  This custom likely began when they were very wee and had separation anxiety: Herself would comfort them by affirming the Next Time.  It became a tradition and a habit, and is now part of her routine with them.  She does the same with Beloved Husband, too.  When he leaves for work -- "See you at the office."  If he works late after she leaves -- "See you at home."  If he's away -- "Talk to you tomorrow morning." It's reassuring to her, to know when she will next have contact with him and with the Offspring.

Her first encounters with the Unknown Next Time were eons ago, when she and Beloved Husband (then fiance) had a long-distance relationship and only saw each other every three to four months.  In those days before Skype and cell phones and texting and such, it was extraordinarily painful. She chooses not to recall those times now - best to let go of the difficulties of the past.

More recently, she has experienced the Unknown Next Time with Offspring the First and Offspring the Second.  When Herself and Beloved Husband delivered them to college, she did not know exactly when the Next Time would be.  It brought a pang to Herself's heart. Even now, when she will wave goodbye to Offspring the First at the airport, or when she will send Offspring the Second off to the train station, Herself will be unable to say when Next Time will be. She can only say: "See you soon." Alas. Time marches on.

Herself has realized that she also performs the Next Time ritual with Cherished Friend.  At the conclusion of a walk, she would say, "See you [next walking day];" if she knew he'd stop by over the weekend, she'd affirm, "See you Saturday." If they were running errands, she'd establish that they'd meet at the grocery store or another place.  It was always reassuring.  Now that he is settling a bit into his new corner of the desert and Herself is adapting her routines to his absence, she has become very aware that her usual conclusion for any interaction cannot be used.  Alas. The best she can do is: "Soon."

Soon -- the Unknown Next Time.  It is saddening, indeed.