I cannot seem to get my words together today. They rise like birds from my heart and lift away, fly with the wind. Tomorrow we take Teddy back to school and I am trying not to be sentimental about it. Our time together has gone too swiftly. We won’t see him again until Thanksgiving, and all the holidays after that will loom with this joy of expectation. I know the ordinary will breathe again in between; time will stretch out without words and there will be new routines to settle into.
As I tap these words onto the screen I see how beautiful this can become, how life centered on loved ones and longing is a precious gift. I don’t know why the seasons must change for me to understand the loveliness of the now I cradle in my arms. I don’t want to forget this tender urgency, the way everything seems new.
I cannot keep him here, nor do I want to, so I spent the afternoon baking some pepperoni rolls to send with him. I’ll share this recipe later this week at Grace Table, but suffice it to say, the secret ingredient is love. It’s a sandwich immigrant miners carried with them when they descended into the dark, a savory treat that did not require refrigeration and therefore lent itself well to the lunch bucket. And it was discovered right here, in West Virginia.
So now I send it with him, not into the dark, but to a place of light, I hope. Still, it is a place of stepping into the unknown, requiring courage, and maybe a sandwich roll filled with love.
This post is part of my 31 Days of the Almost Empty Nest series. I’m writing in community with the thirty-one dayers. Women all over the world are joining together in the month of October to write every day about something they’re passionate about. Check out some of the other writers here. So much good stuff. To read my first post, with links to all the days, go here.