It’s Not As Bad As My Imagination Tells Me It’s Going To Be

His “box” from college is sitting in the basement, waiting for us to pack him up and take him back. The same box we loaded last fall.  The box has sat “untouched” since he came home last May.

He no longer needs that scrub brush with the soap inside to wash out his water bottle, the lamp that clips onto the side of his bed, the bulletin board, the lock for his computer…He’s home now.

The days are getting shorter, and soon it will be time to load him up again, and take him back. Sometimes, I remember that day, the first time he went to college, and I don’t think I can do it again… I just don’t have it in me to go through those weird days of getting used to him not being here, of not hearing his voice every day, and not being able to share the little things of the day — his and mine. Of anticipating weekends when he will be coming home again.  The phone calls that always come too late, saying, “I’m out of food.”  The wondering about how he’s really doing, the forgetting… the whole of it just seems unbearable from here. We’ve gotten so used to having him around again…

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That imperceptible phase that comes when I start to not miss him…

And then, there are all the things I wanted to teach him this summer, the things I wanted to do with him — and didn’t.

I know that I am making this much worse than it will really be — but just like the anticipation of the drop of the roller coaster is worse than the drop really is, these are anxious days. Maybe it’s worse this time, because I know what’s coming…

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One comment to “It’s Not As Bad As My Imagination Tells Me It’s Going To Be”
  1. You KILL me with these posts!! I feel it ALL for you!! ugh ugh ugh…But what a young man he has turned out to be!!

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