Summer's End

Here we are, coming to the end of another summer. I'm not ready.

My youngest son is going back to Seattle at the end of next week. I won't see him again until Christmas. I'm not ready.

My oldest son is starting school on Monday. He's getting a do-over on his senior year. This is his chance to make it work, and I'm overseeing it. I'm not ready.

I leave for London in a week and a half, and I'll be there for three weeks. I'm both terrified and exhilarated. I am not, however, ready.

Matt's already back at work. Has been since last week. I am still not ready.

Next week is orientation for the new semester. Definitely not ready.

I want to be ready. I want to be caught up on working and sending stuff over to my advisor. I want to feel like I've spent enough time with my kids, that I'm where I need to be, that I've spent enough time with Matt. Instead, I feel like things are coming to an end and nothing is quite okay, and that's somehow my fault. I feel like I am without recourse. All I can do is keep moving forward, and that's still not going to be enough. Change isn't impending, it's already here. I am being weighed and found wanting. I cannot be all the things I need to be, and do all the things I want to do, and accomplish it all in the time I have left. Something's going to be lost, and part of me will go with it. There is nothing I can do to fix it, because I won't know what it was until it's gone.

I know that a month from now, things will be okay -- at least, as okay as they can be. I will have gotten past the post and survived the transition and more or less gotten through, and life will go on. I'll be closer to seeing my William again, and I'll be getting Christmas visit tickets for him. Al will be established in school and we'll have a rhythm going. I'll be coming back home and seeing Matt again, and that'll be wonderful. Nothing will have blown up, and things will mostly be okay.

But now is not a month from now, and now -- in the moment -- I'm just not ready, and I'm scared and sad.


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