It was move-in day.
A North Carolina morning.
Where a cool breeze dusted your face.
And a cumulus cloud was chiseled into an otherwise unmarked sky.
The Sun was warming.
Yes, another one of those days in which you know.
You know that this wasn’t all by accident.
Too large. Too complex. Just too big.
We are among other parents and their children getting an early start.
Moving day buzz and jitters.
Hauling printers, pillows, college-ruled paper and milk crates. Setting up bunk beds.
Momma and Momma’s Boy are tangling over where to put stuff.
PC isn’t working.
I tell him to let me try.
I sit in his desk chair. The chair he will be sitting in for the next 9 months.
And work on setting up his printer.
I feel his disorientation.
He’s inherited this from his Dad.
The previous night.
I was asleep. It was a long drive.
I heard him walk into the room.
He said goodnight to his Mother.
Then approached me.
He kissed me on the forehead and whispered “Good night Dad.”
I lay quietly.
Eyes open. No longer asleep. Or sleepy.
Melancholy washes over me.
We have an established rhythm.
A to and a fro.
Waves lapping up on the shoreline.
What goes out, will come back in.
It needs to come back in.
We’re in the car heading back.
I see that Susan has her window open.
Her hand out catching gulps of air.
I roll mine down too.
I turn the volume up after catching a few bars.
Fleetwood Mac. Landslide.
Well, I’ve been afraid of changing
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you…
Children get older
I’m getting older too
Yes I’m getting older too