Their first week of summer camp began as it should, exceedingly happy expectations; any mom hesitation overshadowed by their joy.
This was good.
Phone reception was nill. But only five days, right? And little, big boys need their freedom, kind of.
By day two I'm just killing time. Because the house is quiet (relatively) and that's nice(kind of). But they're not in it. And I wonder. When I'm 50,60, 80...
When the pace slows down and it's a lot more quiet- will I still be killing time?
Because I've got dreams for retirement from this full time, no paying job- dreams much bigger but less significant than they used to be. I just want a career in full time normal, uneventful and mundane.
Excitement and title lost its luster a long time ago. And accomplishment? Sure, I'd still like even my phD. But that may require a faster pace than I'll probably want to be accustomed to.
So I imagine big dreams of rollin' around in that fixed up turquoise, 57 Chevy pick up with my grey headed sweetie by my side. We might not get too much past Texas.
But I think we might just be killin' time.
Until they come ....
By day five, I'm earlier than usual because I'm not usually early at all. And I find their tanned lovely faces next to sleeping bags spilling out and luggage full of clothes ready to come home and be washed.
My heart full, my life to its brim again.