I gotta get the boys ready for church. They are taking turns in the shower and getting on their church clothes. I have makeup that needs slapped on my face and then I'll be ready too.

I missed the first day of school this year and I'm missing the last day also. I asked the boys if that made them sad. The littlest one shrugged his shoulders and said, "kinda." I'll take that as a yes.

I played at my friend's house last night in front of lots of my friends and neighbors. We had spent the afternoon going to all the graduation receptions for the high school kids and then we topped it off with a beautiful night around the fire pit and I sang some songs. Those are great memories. One of my favorite graduates got sick right before the graduation ceremony at school yesterday. He didn't walk with his class, he stayed in bed all day long. He is loved by his family and classmates and I look forward to going back out to the farm when he's better and everyone can join in a "graduation do-over." It can't make up for missing the big day, but he should know how much he was missed.

While we sat in the high school gym waiting for the program to start, Jon asked me what my graduation day was like. I remember not being in the best head space. I wasn't sad or happy or nostalgic. I remember feeling like it didn't hold much meaning. I was a terrible person. I'm still really bad at special occasions. 

The van needs gas. The stuff needs to be packed. A load of laundry can go in before I drive away. My kids will finish school on Wednesday. I'll get back home late on Thursday night. In the in between I'm going to sing songs. I'm going away for something that is like a special occasion so I won't do it very well (not the singing, I'm gonna sing the pants off those songs). My heart is too fragile. I cry at anything. I worry about everything. I guess I'm bad at special occasions because I'm so afraid that my heart will get broken that I turn it off altogether. Before I drive I away I'll hug those boys, give them a pep talk, let them know how proud of them I am and then, as I start driving south to the interstate, I'll let myself cry. 

But not before I drive away.

 

Comment