When you’re a parent with young children, you can see possibility, opportunity, and endless field of options. That’s part of being a parent, it’s being freed of expectation and looking towards the best of what you want for your family.
And then life, as it so often does, gets in the way.
A decade and a half passes, and suddenly you find that you’re out of that field and all you can see are the paths you could have taken, but didn’t, for any number of reasons. Worse, still, when you started on the field, you were full of energy and hope; now you’re older, and all the fun seems to have faded into the grasses.
This year is our last with you, Monkey. In less than eight months, you’re leaving for school. Somewhere. Even if you stay in town, living at home (but we know you want to live in residence), you won’t be present. So I had hoped to make this year count.
March Break. The last with the four of us. I had hoped for … well, anything, really. We know there’s struggles (Mommy, in particular, is very worried about where you’re living next year, especially if you’re going to Vancouver) and exams will be looming.
I didn’t expect you, though, to say you didn’t want to go anywhere. I was even more surprised when Choo Choo said the same thing. March Break at home.
I guess I had hoped for a getaway somewhere. Mexico, Hawaii, hell, even New York (though we’d all prefer warmer, right now). I think the state of the world, especially with Dumbass coming into office, put everyone in a down mood.
We’re down to our last adventures together. I’m not looking forward to it ending.
