today I’m grateful for a generous neighbor who doesn’t block their wireless connection, for a generous cousin/sister who gifted me her laptop, and for a summer teeming with memories, created and revisited. i’m living the ‘baking chocolate’ kind of life – no sugar or milk to soften the taste – just the potent stuff, and a lot of it.
the goodbyes-at-hand began last weekend in kentucky – the home of my adulthood. my most formative post-High School experiences and friendships are connected to the Bluegrass in varying degrees of separation. i spent the weekend with friends, old and relatively new, who celebrated the upcoming adventure and sent me off with purpose. i am excited to go on their behalf, but as i drove north on 75 and crossed The Bridge, the sadness was very real – bitter in my mouth and hot around my ears. the end of an era, i am certain.
tyler left for college yesterday. we will see him again in only 3 days, but Labor Day weekend will surely hold agendas, and we have much more fun without those. for a couple of weeks in may all 3 McGuire kids were at home and jobless. of course, the parents were proud. while I was repeatedly frustrated by a lack of substitute teaching calls, i was secretly pleased by the opportunity to sit around the house with the boys – rambling on about faith, music, and how 'deep down you know' you really are Larry David. it seems that the little brothers grew up in the years I was away, so recent months gave me the joy of being reintroduced. next week I will begin this cycle again. we will keep up on the Big Things of life, Blood is a thick bond. but I will miss these days filled with the little things – the daily trifles and confessions and questions – that have made us into friends.
now i sit by the window in the yellow kitchen mom always wanted. my morning, in its entirety, has been spent in this chair, in this room. it is home; the color, the light, the table worn-in (perhaps out) by meals, laughter, apologies, family. a few weeks ago i found a letter that i sent from Freetown in 2005. i easily recall what prompted it. i woke up early on a saturday; i think it was october. i had yet to open my eyes and was momentarily convinced that i was at my parents’ house. i wished for mom’s french toast in the yellow kitchen, and College Game Day with dad. then i opened my eyes and began what was to be a melancholic, aching sort of day.
it is a tormenting privilege, knowing places and people to long for.