I was eating lunch with my boys yesterday when Logan hit me with a big one. I can never prepare myself for the topic bombs he drops and as he get older, and its happening with more and more frequency.
“Mom, what does the word, Gay, mean?”
I am starting to think that when the cupcake craze died, a new doughnut craze raised up from the ashes.
He went on to tell me that it was in Spanish class last week that he learned the word and it’s really been on his mind for a few days to talk to me about it and the topic just couldn’t wait any longer.
…And then I thought of Prakash again and the idea that change is universal occurred to me in a big way. No one is free from it. Not me or you or him or them or the President of the United States!
“One spray on your head before bed and you’ll dream of girl-stuff like hearts and flowers and stuff you like. One smell and you’ll be happy for the rest of your life.”
Oh, certainly my heart ached and fear was a worthy opponent, but it wasn’t crippling. I had already exhausted all of those earth-shattering feelings and scenarios leading up to Brain Day and I had nothing more of that capacity to give. The difference on this day, was that I shared my husband’s insatiable desire to get it all over with. All of this stuff we had to take care of beforehand was just that: stuff. We held hands as we jumped through all the hoops of it together. Except we wouldn’t be able to hold hands the entire time. That is when it would become tricky. Letting go.
At 5 o’clock the other morning, I received the email that School District 11 would be on a two hour delay due to inclement weather. Ahhhh…yes. I turned off my alarm, cozied back in and returned to my slumber.
I’ve been broken. And, by broken, of course I mean, an emotional, tear-shedding, reaching-for-the-Kleenex, sniffling, blubbering fool.
Signing Christmas cards stopped being easy for a moment when I came upon one for the Neurosurgeon.