This afternoon I had a really great idea about what I was going to write in tonight’s blog. Unfortunately, I’ve long since forgotten what the idea was. I am hoping it will come back to me in the next few minutes, but I am not especially optimistic about this–my brain is a little sluggish this evening, owing to some exhaustion and a wee cold I can feel coming on. Nevertheless, my plan is to soldier on for the next few minutes imparting a thought or two about gratitude.
I am grateful this evening for my son and his presence with me over the past 17 months. He didn’t really want to live with me when we were forced to move from the home we shared with my now ex-partner. But economic necessity, particularly on my part, meant that we needed to live together for a time. As the one of the two of us who had a regular, full-time job, it was his name and employment information in combination with my good credit report that got us into the condo where we now reside. He could have lived elsewhere, but he was willing to live with me. In a week or so he’ll be moving out and into his own place, sharing an apartment with a friend of his. He was able to get a pretty good deal and it seemed to make sense that this is the time that he should go. While at the moment I don’t have a place to stay yet myself, I’m confident that I’ll secure something fairly soon–I have two weeks to find a place and move. Now, to be sure there have been benefits to him as well that we’ve lived together, and I’m sure he would acknowledge that. But I know for sure that he’s looking forward to a little more freedom than he’s had living off the beaten path with his mother. It can really cramp one’s social style.
So within a week or so I will officially be an “empty nester,” in that both of my kids will have flown the coop leaving me here sans a human cohabitant for the first time in my life. It has occurred to me more than once that I have never really lived without at least one other human companion for my entire life. I grew up in an active family–two parents and five siblings–and went from home to college, where I lived with assorted roommates until I graduated and headed off to graduate school, where I lived with more assorted roommates. When I joined a church during my second year of graduate school I lived in households of anywhere from four to six other people, until I got married, then I blissfully went back to living with only one other person. Eventually our family of two became a family of four after the births of my son and daughter. Then our family went back down to three as I joined the ranks of the divorced. Since then it’s been me and one or both kids including when I met and came to live with my now ex-partner. When Jared moves next week, that will leave me and Honor, my four-legged sidekick, who’s not much of a conversationalist.
Right now I find this a very odd notion, and know that the reality will be odder still once Jared moves. He and I have long operated on very different schedules and biorhythms. I am awake early and moving around, going to work, etc. while he stays in his room. He stays up well into the wee hours of the morning while I have long since gone to bed. So in essence we have been like ships that pass in the night, though actually we sometimes never pass at all. But that didn’t matter because I knew he was here even when I didn’t see him over the course of a day. When he moves out next week he will no longer be here in any way. And when I move out of the condo sometime in the next few weeks I won’t be here either. What an odd feeling that gives me.
I am grateful to have had Jared with me over the past year and a half. His presence has provided a steadying influence that I hadn’t known I needed. Because our personalities are so different, we have often butted heads on a variety of subjects and our overall approaches to life, and I’ve no doubt I driven him as (or more) nuts than he’s driven me–and that’s saying something. But I love my son, and while I don’t know that I’ll be lonely per se, I will miss him. My next steps remain somewhat uncertain–where I will go, what I will do, how I will move forward–and things will be very different in the months ahead. But while I still live in the area I hope to see my son from time to time. In the meantime, Honor and I will have to make the best of it.
