As I sit here at the kitchen table writing this, I can see bits of the sun peeking through the dense green leaves of the trees – the leaves are still green and fresh looking. But I know it’s only a matter of time before they turn all these brilliant shades of yellows, golds and reds before falling off the tree – it happens later here in California than in most parts of the country, but it always happens.
They’re like the kids, I thought – the kids who were always such a huge part of my life. I was always surrounded and engulfed by them. There were times I wanted to run away from them, but not for long – I even used to joke with my friends that my kids won’t leave home even if I wanted them to.
I’m eerily alone this morning, with only the cat to keep me company – no yelling at Megan to get out of bed, no Megan yelling at me to get off the computer and get ready for work. She’s at her friend’s house for a couple of days, going to school from there. She even took the dog with her – so now I get yet another glimpse of my life without any of the kids around – heck, maybe even without the dog. Megan will probably want to take the dog with her. I don’t know when she’ll move out – but already there’s that sense of independence, that sense of Megan wanting to spread her wings and live her own life as she turns 17 in about a week.
Like all the other kids.
It’s pleasant here this morning, yet quiet. I’ve got the radio on for rockin’ music to keep me company – I breathe in the fresh, crisp, cool air that travels in through the slightly open window. Sometimes it feels downright luxurious to be alone – to know that you can do whatever you want, that you can leave things places and not worrying about it disappearing, that you don’t have to fight for your spot in the bathroom or on the computer because Megan’s laptop broke. I’m thinking okay, I’m going to get the writing and the reading done that always falls between the cracks somehow.
Yet the other part of me feels sad – wondering where those people that were once my children were. Where has my excited little rollerblading cheerleader girl gone? Even as my older kids became moody teenagers, I had a little girl just starting Kindergarten, a kid who still thought I was wonderful and who loved me. I can still picture Megan rollerblading down the street to school with her helmet and knee pads – she was in first grade and she insisted upon rollerblading to school – she would’ve slept in those rollerblades if I had allowed her to. So I would watch Megan as she set out down the street, effortlessly gliding alone, until she got to the crossing guard who would help her across the street to school.
As I watched her, for just one fleeting moment I thought perhaps she would always be my little girl.
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I don't know if you did this consciously, but opening with a description of the impending fall absolutely sets the tone - and serves as metaphor - for the theme of this piece. This is really lovely! There's a beautiful nostalgia about it. I love the image of Megan 'effortlessly gliding alone.' It too, foreshadows the theme of the essay. Wonderful job!
ReplyDeleteMelody, I loved the falling leaves metaphor and your uncertain mood about being alone. It resonated with me because my own daughter is drifting farther and farther away (all the way to Russia next year). So many images capture such universal emotions.
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