I’ve been in this particular place in time once before. It’s a deja vu moment. I’m fighting the tide that threatens to consume me.
I’m filling my day with busy-ness: chores, activities and distractions.
I don’t want to think too deeply. I am afraid.
I know what is coming.
The emotional amputation that is going to be performed this week.
A piece of my heart will take flight.
I will wait up for him, even though he isn’t coming home.
I will turn suddenly at the sound of his voice, only to find an empty room.
I will feel the hugs that only my gentle, giant of a boy could give- his cheek on my hair and his arms wrapped around me as he leaned down to embrace me from his lofty height.
I will set a place at the table, still counting four.
I will walk by his room and breathe in his scent, looking for him among the few things he’s left behind.
How do we find the strength?
How do we stand aside, and bravely left our chicks fly?