~Upstream and Down~

In two days we'll be driving David to college. Not far, an hour and a half away, and an easy trip over major roads. I know from experience that he'll be fine, and have fun, and grow older and wiser. And that I'll miss having him around. He and his girlfriend Jen are in the "family room," packing his clothes and other belongings in plastic footlockers. They both look grim-- or maybe just solemn-- but determined. They've had a fun-filled summer, between jobs, and have put off thinking about going away until they can't ignore it any longer. Dave and Jen have been together since 5-5-05, an "anniversary" they've celebrated twice. College will separate them for the first significant amount of time since then. They're walking through the throes of missing each other in advance. At eighteen, who knows? They could have already found their life partner. Maybe absence will make their hearts grow fonder. Or maybe it will be out of sight out of mind, ...

I've edited my revised New Year's Resolution. No more walking in circles around a track, wondering, "Is this lap seven or eight?" No more walking on a treadmill, going for miles and ending up where I started. Yesterday I went for a walk-- for exercise-- that turned out to be such pure pleasure I wondered why I hadn't figured this out before. Why walk for exercise when you can walk for the sheer pleasure of it? I guess I knew in my heart of hearts this was the way to go, and I'm sure others are ahead of me in making this discovery, but sometimes I'm too busy for pleasure. There is so much to do, so much that absolutely *has* to be done. And when it is done I find my pleasure in a dish of ice cream, or a nap, or both. I intended to do the minimum-- walk for thirty minutes. I ended up walking for over an hour, and finished happier and more refreshed than if I'd done the "for exercise purposes only" walk. Beside a road leading through the colleg...

It was late. We should have been asleep, but we weren't-- David because he's eighteen, and me, because I lose track of time when I'm at my computer. I'm usually in bed long before he is, reading or maybe curled with the cat. Sometimes he stops outside my door and says goodnight. Other times, he comes in, pats the cat, and gives me a kiss. If I'm really lucky, he stretches out beside me, and shares his day, talking about kids and teachers, making it live for me with his talent for imitation. He's eighteen now, six foot four, already in charge of his own time and activities-- up to a point. But he's still my baby, so when I heard him whisper, "Night, Mom," when I walked past his room on my way to bed, I pushed open his door, and sat on the edge of his bed to give him a kiss. "Remember when you used to fall asleep on the floor beside my bed?" he asked. I do remember. It eased him through his nightmare stage. I'd lie on my back, ...