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No Photos. No Funny Stories. Just Joy.
Jun. 6th, 2022 11:36 amYesterday morning, 10:27 a.m. I'm standing on the roundabout, watching all the girls go by. (It's not creepy. It was required. There will be a photobomby post to follow, probably tomorrow, about why.)
A missed call. From our daughter. Who we haven't spoken to in over six months.
She sounded okay. Stressed, but okay. The required dialogue from Parent School:
Are you safe? ::brief pause:: "Mostly."
Are you together? ::"you," meaning her boyfriend of over a decade and live-in for almost that long:: "No, and that's why I'm here."
"Here" turns out to be on Sheridan Drive, whencefrom she is heading to "say her final goodbye" to Cameron and then to stop and see us both at home if we'll have her. Which, of course.
"And is it okay if I bring a dog?"
This is news. Not as big as the other news which is also news, but news.
Fine with me, but there's a dog at our house you'll need to check with.
(She did. They got along thick as thieves. The cats respectively voted to nuzzle him (Jack), bat at his face (Bronzini), and ignore him (Zoey). All within predictable levels.)
As I stood in the sun with probably two hours before I could leave the 5k I was volunteering at, I contemplated where this was going. Emily has not lived with us year-round since going off to RIT in the fall of 2010, and she, and Cameron with her, have been totally out of our house since two years after that. Visits went from brief to rare to none, owing to circumstances in our own lives that led to changes over especially the last four years involving geography, therapy and sobriety. We never burned bridges so much as decided to stop paying the expensive tolls on them. They were four states away on the map and who knows how many states away from us, and even each other, on the emotional scale.
When they returned here this past weekend, unknown to us, to visit their friends and his families for his 30th birthday this weekend, it resulted in final straws leaving camels' backs. They would always love each other but could not be in love in the way it would take to take the next steps of commitment to marriage and their own family. At least not now, at least not without steps that would have to be taken.
Meanwhile, I'm rearranging furniture in my head for the prospect of her being back here, whether overnight or over time. Overthinking, as it turned out: Emily was only with us briefly, is driving her (my former) car back to her home and will take the coming week to sort who's doing what and living where, there, while Cam stays here on this week he had off anyway. I felt relief for how they worked that part of it out, but even more happiness that, for whatever reason, it brought the end to our silence and separation that we can now, slowly and carefully, rebuild from.
As for the grand-dog: his pic is at the end of my previous post. He's named Theoden, as in LOTR, joining a parade of names in their furhouse that over the years has included a Gweniviere, an Arthur and a Westley. (I must remember to recommend to her the Peter David book I'm reading and enjoying about "Wart" and his adventures in time travel.) He's about a year old, a mix of beagle and black-and-tan coonhound, a not-quite graduate of several obedience courses (therein hang several tails), and utterly sweet and adorable. His home crew of kitties is of course not amused, while he just wants to play with them.
We did not talk about who's going with whom in their future lives. I'm sure they will work that out, and probably will work everything out. Because their love and kindness in the here and now are to be counted upon.
----
Where do she and we go from here? Up. We never hit rock bottom, but there were moments where I thought we could see it. We have no requests or plans to head down there for either socializing or helping. Emily has been working toward getting her financial house sufficiently in order that she may, now, be able to buy a real one. She's now two years past the age I was when we first became mortgagors on a condo, and almost exactly how old I was when we added a garage and a yard (and, a year later, an ice storm) to that responsibility for the first time.
That may take time, as may more healing, but we're now on the clock. And that's something to bark about:)
A missed call. From our daughter. Who we haven't spoken to in over six months.
She sounded okay. Stressed, but okay. The required dialogue from Parent School:
Are you safe? ::brief pause:: "Mostly."
Are you together? ::"you," meaning her boyfriend of over a decade and live-in for almost that long:: "No, and that's why I'm here."
"Here" turns out to be on Sheridan Drive, whencefrom she is heading to "say her final goodbye" to Cameron and then to stop and see us both at home if we'll have her. Which, of course.
"And is it okay if I bring a dog?"
This is news. Not as big as the other news which is also news, but news.
Fine with me, but there's a dog at our house you'll need to check with.
(She did. They got along thick as thieves. The cats respectively voted to nuzzle him (Jack), bat at his face (Bronzini), and ignore him (Zoey). All within predictable levels.)
As I stood in the sun with probably two hours before I could leave the 5k I was volunteering at, I contemplated where this was going. Emily has not lived with us year-round since going off to RIT in the fall of 2010, and she, and Cameron with her, have been totally out of our house since two years after that. Visits went from brief to rare to none, owing to circumstances in our own lives that led to changes over especially the last four years involving geography, therapy and sobriety. We never burned bridges so much as decided to stop paying the expensive tolls on them. They were four states away on the map and who knows how many states away from us, and even each other, on the emotional scale.
When they returned here this past weekend, unknown to us, to visit their friends and his families for his 30th birthday this weekend, it resulted in final straws leaving camels' backs. They would always love each other but could not be in love in the way it would take to take the next steps of commitment to marriage and their own family. At least not now, at least not without steps that would have to be taken.
Meanwhile, I'm rearranging furniture in my head for the prospect of her being back here, whether overnight or over time. Overthinking, as it turned out: Emily was only with us briefly, is driving her (my former) car back to her home and will take the coming week to sort who's doing what and living where, there, while Cam stays here on this week he had off anyway. I felt relief for how they worked that part of it out, but even more happiness that, for whatever reason, it brought the end to our silence and separation that we can now, slowly and carefully, rebuild from.
As for the grand-dog: his pic is at the end of my previous post. He's named Theoden, as in LOTR, joining a parade of names in their furhouse that over the years has included a Gweniviere, an Arthur and a Westley. (I must remember to recommend to her the Peter David book I'm reading and enjoying about "Wart" and his adventures in time travel.) He's about a year old, a mix of beagle and black-and-tan coonhound, a not-quite graduate of several obedience courses (therein hang several tails), and utterly sweet and adorable. His home crew of kitties is of course not amused, while he just wants to play with them.
We did not talk about who's going with whom in their future lives. I'm sure they will work that out, and probably will work everything out. Because their love and kindness in the here and now are to be counted upon.
----
Where do she and we go from here? Up. We never hit rock bottom, but there were moments where I thought we could see it. We have no requests or plans to head down there for either socializing or helping. Emily has been working toward getting her financial house sufficiently in order that she may, now, be able to buy a real one. She's now two years past the age I was when we first became mortgagors on a condo, and almost exactly how old I was when we added a garage and a yard (and, a year later, an ice storm) to that responsibility for the first time.
That may take time, as may more healing, but we're now on the clock. And that's something to bark about:)