Writing, Reading, Reflection

I got home from work tonight at 7.  A twelve hour stint at work yet again. However, I arrived home to the smell of wood burning in someone’s fireplace, the air was crisp and there is something about the trees right now as they begin to change. There is a gentle hum in the slow turning colors, the way the leaves must be stretching and changing, pulling their last bits of nutrients from the trees that will soon shake them free. If it never got any colder, I’d be very happy. Just enough cool that I can crack the windows and curl up under my comforter and get all cozy and warm.

I’m too tired to clean the house, which desperately needs it. I got an email from my son who was planning on coming home from college this weekend to celebrate his 19th birthday. He says he wants to go to the MU game in Oklahoma instead. I told him “of course, go. Have fun!” But there is that twinge of disappointment, too. This is his first time canceling coming home. It’s a good sign. He’s having fun with his friends. He’s doing things he loves. He is creating a life for himself. But there is also something very sad about this. Not that he won’t be home, but that someday in the near future the next missed event might be a major holiday. That makes me sad. Before long, he’ll likely have a girlfriend who will want him to go home with her. In a few years, he’ll likely live out of state and won’t have the money to come home every holiday. It’s bittersweet this growing up, growing old, letting go that we must do.

In truth, I’m working so much so that I don’t miss Jake so much. I know that. If I weren’t dating again, I’d likely be at work, doing work every moment of my waking hours. Work is the way I avoid things, especially feelings. I love my job; I am good at it; there, I can sink into things that bring me success and intellectual stimulation–all of which keeps me distant from emotions like sadness and lonliness and longing. I must sit and feel this. I must sit and feel.