Partings, anticipated

This morning Herself spent some time with Offspring the First, planning the necessary trips to install her at college in the fall. 

In the fall.  That makes it sound like there's plenty of time because it's so far away.

Reality is, it will be in a mere four months.  That's so very close.

Herself has only begun thinking about the inevitable moment when she drives away and leaves Offspring the First over 500 miles from home.  Offspring the First has never before been away from home for more than a week, and yet it will be months and months at a time now.  And home is forever changed, for "coming home" is very different once one has been away at college. 

Herself is excited for Offspring the First.  New adventures, new discoveries.  New people, new places.  So many worlds open up in college.   Herself focuses on that, rather than thinking about how much Offspring the First's absence in the household will be noticeable.  Yet in the wee hours, when she cannot sleep, Herself mulls over how to console Offspring the Second and Offspring the Third when they miss Offspring the First.  And she cannot even begin to fathom how she will console herself.

_______

There is another possible parting in the back of Herself's mind, too:  there is a chance that one of her favorite people may move away from this desert land.  The future is uncertain.  Herself waits for further news, and holds her concerns in abeyance for the moment.

I encourage her to keep in mind a few words of wisdom from Kung Fu:  "What will happen, will happen, whether one is afraid or not."  She understands, and she is patient.  Still, she sees the creeping shadows of loss and change, and is fearful.   

Change is hard.

Egg Nostalgia

Childhood memory:

My family had a collection of egg cups.  Some were shaped like little chickens, as I recall, and we even had a small chicken-shaped cozy to keep an egg warm. When I had a cold and was too germ-laden to join the family at the table, I'd get a tray in my room with a soft-boiled egg in an egg cup, ideally with toast (cut in triangles) so I could crack off just the top of the egg and stick the toast points into the still-runny yolk.  Add to that the special treat of being temporarily allowed to use the family's small black-and-white TV so I could watch The Banana Splits or some painfully wholesome PBS show, and it was a happy experience despite my being under the weather.

Bonds

Herself has something to say today:

Yesterday evening, my Beloved and I took our dogs for a walk.  As we chatted about this and that, I told him about what was going on in my friends' lives.  When he and I returned home, I spent some time thinking about my friends, and about how very grateful I am to know them and to have them in my life.

My Beloved and I have mutual obligations - we are bound together not only by the vows we exchanged nearly 20 years ago, but also by the common life that we have built together and the children whom we have brought into this world.  I expect certain things from him:  if I am lonely, sorrowful or hurt, I expect him to try to console me.  If I have difficulty, I expect him to listen to my words and to try to help if I ask him to do so.  If I have happiness,  I expect to be able to share it with him and that he will be happy in turn.  And I, in turn do the same for him.  I expect him to come to me with his needs and his joys, so that I may help him or rejoice with him.  For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish.  So it is.

My friends have no such obligations to me - not by any vow, by any duty, by any promise.  And yet, they are here for me.  They are happy when I am happy.  They console me; they listen to me; they help if I ask.  They keep the spectre of loneliness away from my doorstep, even when my Beloved works long hours and is not here.  They tell me of their happinesses and their successes, and I am ever so pleased for them.  Even more:  they turn to me in their own times of need. They let me feed them and look after them.  If they need a hug or a word of cheer, they provide me the opportunity for helping them.  They care about me, and I care about them. So it is.

It is marvelous indeed, that a bond of friendship alone has given rise to these relationships that bring me so much joy.  It is my honor and my privilege to be here for my friends as they are for me.  I am enormously grateful, every day, for them.

Thank you, my friends. 

Desert Longings

Every trip into the desert is marvelous. 

The low that follows the high, though, is brutal.

Such a tremendous longing to be out again.  Almost a physical discomfort.  Ordinary days pale in comparison to the bliss of the adventures.

Yet would we truly appreciate the beauty and wonder of the desert outings, if we did not have such a clear contrast between them and our ordinary lives?

We will go again.  Soon.

Not Minor

Yesterday, Offspring the First reached the age of majority.  She is delighted; Herself and Herself's Beloved are quite verklempt.  Where did their baby go?  It seems just yesterday that they lined up her first pair of shoes with theirs.

She has grown into a lovely, kind-hearted, witty young lady. So much life ahead of her, so many wonderful possibilities.  She is making her plans to go away to college next year.  We are already bereft at the thought of her absence from our daily lives. 

Godspeed, child.  You are an adult in the eyes of the law, but your journey is truly only just beginning.  We will be here, to walk with you when you need company, to catch you when you fall, and to cheer when you soar.

Crater, Round Two

Yesterday, Herself had the pleasure of visiting Aden Crater, New Mexico, for the second time.  (The first adventure is described here.)  She, her Beloved, her cherished friend, and Offspring the Third spent an entire day at the Crater. 

They drove out -- Herself and her Beloved in the Suzuki, and Offspring the third together with Herself's cherished friend in a Jeep -- and bumped over the lava rocks up close to the Crater.  Herself made everyone sandwiches for lunch (she heartily enjoys preparing food for them).  Then they hiked up into the Crater, and explored numerous small caves and other rock formations.  They found rat skulls and saw owls swooping past.  They admired the giant ocotillos and took pictures of the cholla fruit. They returned to base camp for a snack, and watched the sun set and the stars come out before they packed up and headed home.

Offspring the Third had long expressed a desire to visit the Crater and poke about in all of the caves, and was thoroughly prepared with his CamelBak and numerous light sources for the darker recesses.  He enjoyed himself immensely.  As an added benefit, he spent a significant amount of time with Herself's cherished friend. He admires Herself's cherished friend enormously, and the cherished friend is unfailingly kind, conversational, and patient with Offspring the Third.  It warms Herself's heart greatly to see the two of them interacting with one another.

Herself's Beloved has been working extraordinarily hard of late, and it was such a pleasure to see him take the day off from work and spend it in the out-of-doors doing the kind of hiking and exploring that he loves.  He was also quite satisfied with the performance of the Suzuki.  Herself understands now how much that vehicle means to him, and is happy that it pleases him so. 

It's impossible to explain the joy that Herself derives from these desert trips.  To leave behind all of her ordinary cares and spend time in the desert wilderness with some of her very favorite people, brings her an inexpressible gladness that permeates her very core.  Blessed is she -- doubly blessed, in fact -- for she is eminently aware of, and simultaneously grateful for, the beauty and delight that these moments hold.

On the Vine

One of my favorite scents: tomato on the vine. Mmmmmm. Lovely.