Alone

For the first time in my life, I'm living alone. Granted, it will last all of six weeks total, but you know--it's pretty exciting. Though I will say that the morning the boys left caught me off guard the same way dropping Cody (my oldest) off at kindergarten did (twelve freaking years ago!).

I always thought those weepy moms were super lame, and I never understood why anyone would cry dropping their kid off at school. For me, that meant there was a positive, free(ish) place for  him to go and learn during the day while I went and studied and worked, etc.

Yet there I was, trying hard to focus on the straight black lines on the blurry yellow school bus in front of me as I drove away from that school, sobbing in such a guttural and foreign way.

I was so, so disappointed in myself. I mean, really?! Freaking wussy.

On June 19, 2013, I woke up knowing that my boys were leaving home (one for good, one to go stay with his dad for the summer), which would be the longest we'd ever be apart. Try to imagine, I've been with these humans half of my lifetime. So I guess it makes sense that I was hot-throated all through cooking breakfast burritos. I felt myself already dreading the hugs outside by the curb, watching Cody's car get smaller and smaller as it headed away from this dry lakebed and into the mountains.

The boys knew. For all our bullshit and hard times, my boys know (me). Big hugs and lots of 'love you, Mom's later I was standing in the dying grass, looking at them and looking away and utterly unable to speak. My throat was so hot and tight that to open my mouth and try to use my voice would have released the entire dam. I was totally fucked. I stood there hoping my eyes said 'I love you, too,' because I was trying so hard but couldn't say and Channer's face out the window staring back at me as they drove away and holy shit did I go in the house and sob my face off.

Twenty minutes passed, and I was sure I was finally done. I was in the bathroom attempting to use toilet paper to roto-rooter my nasal passages when someone was at the side doorknob, and I thought--are you kidding me? I've lived alone for twenty minutes, and some asshole's breaking in?!

In walk Cody and Channer (and dad): "So, we got a little ways and then realized that we never did take a picture of all of us at this house. Wash your face and get outside...we're taking a picture."

"Are you kidding me?! Now I have to do this all over again?!"

So we posed. I tried to smile for the sweetness of the gesture and to not start crying again, knowing that I'd repeat the flood in a few moments. It's not likely a picture I'd really ever want to see, but I suppose that moment wasn't about the photograph anyway.

Seriously weird friggin day that was. Intermittent sobfest, really. But the days after have been much better. I'm not eating well because I have no idea how to cook for one, but it's also very nice to organize my day around my hunger alone (no offense, boys, if you're reading this). Mostly this means that I can dive into a job (packing, cleaning, writing... whatever) and not worry about interrupting my groove until I'm ready. Even that bit of freedom is sort of amazing. If you live alone, and you've never had anything/one else that required your attention, you have no idea what a luxury this pseudo-clocklessness is. Enjoy it. I know I will--for four more weeks.

So today marks the 30-days-to-the-UP moving countdown. Waiting for me: fresh air, skies so full of stars you could almost suffocate, aurora borealis, sea glass, the clearest and coldest water to ever steal my heart, and hopefully lots of writing. That said, beyond beauty and lake jumping, who knows what the northwoods hold in store in terms of practicality, employment, etc. But as my oldest son said to me recently: isn't that the exciting part of life--the not knowing? Don't tell him I said this--because, although he thinks so, he does not know everything--but he may be on to something here.

And here, too--some new poems up for your perusal, should you be so inclined. Thanks to the editors at Drunken Boat for publishing these new odes, and--again and again and again--never-ending gratitude to the fine folks and judges at the National Endowment for the Arts (here's the link to the poem they chose to feature from my NEA application).

xo,
LF