Wednesday, November 25, 2009

moving on.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

And for the first time in a number of years, three I believe, the family is coming here, to our house. Already it is eight a.m. and the kitchen is cleaned, windows have been washed, the downstairs half-bath is straightened and the towels from it are being washed. Dishes are done and sitting in the drainer (the dishwasher is out), a load of laundry cycles on the third floor.

All the boys are asleep in their beds, with the exception of Ray who has just walked into the kitchen, fresh washed, t-shirt and boxers. This is the last year, the last thanksgiving where the boys are all home. All in their beds, all snuggled up, all here. But is this our last year here? In this house? The future, again, is blank? No, rather, possible...yes! Chuck will be moving out in a week, possibly two. Still my heart is sick. Why?

The thought of moving..of leaving, possibly forever, something I have known for so long. A town, a house with the constant/inconstant movement of children and their friends. The thought of not having boys to wash for, to cook for, to care for. The entire motherness of it all. It feels like a chasm I am stepping into; dark and deep and unknown. But that is not today. Today is sunny, cold and I am still wiping the memories of the past two shifts off me. Things bothersome. An old woman working to get stronger because she is afraid the nursing home will not take her if she is not strong enough and then, a forty year old, diagnosed with stage IV lymphoma, metastatic...or you could just say, static, to the heart. It had invaded the heart muscle. A pericardial window was cut in her chest wall to remove fluid which had gathered around her heart. Two weeks ago diagnosed and how many more weeks to live? "Vanity, vanity it is all vanity and a chasing after the wind.." And yet I continue to chase. Spending an hour this morning responding to e-mails. Checking real estate reports, formulating the beginning of a business plan.

And Chuck peeks in, barely awake and asks about the car being licensed--the Exploder. Today, I say. As the washer begins the completion of its cycle and the gym waits and the first of the Thanksgiving visitors will later arrive. Today life invades, as it always does, and moves on, wittingly or unwittingly, it moves on.

"A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him who can eat or find enjoyment?" Ecclesiastes 2:24,25.

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