All posts by Dona

Are you kidding me?

Rant,

I called my daughter tonight for an informal chit-chat and she informed me that while she’s working in the Pacific Northwest this summer/fall she will have no cell phone and very little Internet access. Also that there will be one pay phone she can use but will need a phone card. This pay phone does not take incoming calls.  Oh, and plus she may be staying in the area after her work gig just to hang out.

So basically, for all intents and purposes, she will be cut off from me for four months except for the U.S. Postal Mail. Does that even work anymore?

That call ended over two hours ago. What have I been doing in the meantime?

You guessed it.

Crying.

This feels worse than dropping her off at college. I thought that after four years apart we’d get to spend some time together before she went on her way to being a grownup.

During my bout of self-pity (which it was because I am not worried about Clare in the least — she is going to have a blast) I recalled that in December of 1978 I flew to England to student teach for about 4 months. Did I think about those I was leaving behind? Nope. Did I worry that my Mom couldn’t contact me easily? Not a chance.

I am so proud of Clare for what she’s doing this summer/fall — flying across the country to work  in an area she loves (or thinks she loves) with no one she’s ever met before. But I am also so sad that this is the end of our extended periods of time together. Unless she moves back home (which I doubt she will) at some point, we won’t have leisurely weeks to just hang out — to go to the mall or to the tea shop or out to lunch. We won’t be able to sit and watch movies together at night for nights on end.

When someone starts a family she doesn’t think about the letting go. She thinks about the baby and toddler and child for whom she will care for years to come. She rarely thinks about the time her child says “Bye Mom, thanks for all the love.” Tonight when I was crying I thought I wanted to run out and shout at the first pregnant woman I saw and tell her that her  child would leave her someday. But of course I wouldn’t do that. And of course she’d think I was a crazy woman.

I know that there are mothers that say goodbye to their children forever and I know I am being silly and shortsighted about Clare’s 4-month stint in no-cell-or-internet-land. I am allowed to feel sad and wish I could Grey Garden it up as Dean so eloquently put it tonight when he heard me boo-hooing.

On this side of it, 4 months seems like forever. And who knows what is on the other side of that 4 months.

Farewell Apollo

Memories, , ,

In or around 1996 Dean’s mom bought a new car. If my memory is correct she wasn’t exactly delighted with it at the time — I think she thought it was too sporty.

Apollo, the intrepid traveler

After she passed away the car was passed down to my kids. Dean drove it back from Illinois in or around the summer of 2009. Dean’s brothers put some time and money into making it as safe as possible for the kids and for that we are grateful. The car was a familiar sight on our corner for several years — the kids tended to park it across the street. In recent years when I’d look out the window and see it, it made me smile because it meant one or both of my kids were home. At some point they named the car Apollo and Clare decorated the ceiling of the car with the solar system. She said that anyone who worked on the car was always pretty impressed.

This past March the kids’ spring breaks overlapped by one week and the plan was for Clare to pick up Andrew from college and drive him to Maryland after visiting a friend in Ohio. The plans changed somewhat so Clare drove from New York to Maryland and spent some time with us before heading to Oberlin to drop off the car for Andrew and then continuing on to other adventures (in my car). Andrew drove the car back to Maryland that same day. I posted on Facebook that I was somewhat concerned that the car could handle such a trip, but Andrew got home safely.

A few days after the Big Trip and shortly before Clare was to drive it back to New York the car would not start. After several attempts and Internet searching the conclusion was that it had something to do with the head gasket. We’d pretty much decided that we were not going to spend much more money on the car — we’d already spent several thousand dollars more than our knowledgeable car mechanic thought wise — so it was decided that Apollo would be donated to a charity. Clare is borrowing my car for the final stretch of her undergraduate career and remarked that she was relieved to be driving an automobile that didn’t cause her to fear for her life.

On Tuesday the tow truck arrived to take Apollo away for good. I never liked the car (That fear for your life thing. Also chalk dust.) but was sad anyway.

Mine!

Musings, The Great Outdoors,

I am selfish. I have a hard time sharing things I like — dark chocolate, Jelly Bellies (TM), time with my kids, etc. I remember attending a Friday Mass when I worked at a Catholic school that talked about the benefits of sharing but I remained steadfastly selfish.

The other day I picked some lilacs from “our” bush (it was the neighbor’s lilac bush when we moved to Hoover Street but it has since  migrated to our side of the property line) and noticed that we had more bunches of flowers than in years before. I wondered how to make them last so I could enjoy them for as long as possible. I love lilacs. I worried that people would come in the night and take away my fragrant blossoms.

This evening as I planted basil in a planter on my front porch two women walked by the lilac tree and stopped and smelled and exclaimed at the scent. I called my agreement to them.

One of the women said she grew up in the Alps and had lilacs in her garden. I told her to take some. She was reluctant, but did take some. Then I realized that sharing is better than not sharing — you get more out what you share. I think I understand that Mass now.