Simply Surreal and the Brand New Day

When I ran into my friend, Somer, at church Wednesday night, we both agreed it was too cold to meet for coffee the following morning. An arctic blast has altered the temperature outside just as much as the end of the holiday season has changed the activity level in my home.

The kids are gone. Lessons are cranking up. Downton Abbey Season 5 has begun. And my favorite "who done it" shows - Castle, NCIS, Blue Bloods & Forever - are back on with new episodes.

I'm resting more which makes me stronger. And I like feeling stronger. But the changes take me miles away from the two week time warp that served as the heart of the holiday season. 

Did we really just celebrate New Year's Eve last week?

It seems impossible. 

But it's true. Just last week, my kiddos and their cousins were coming and going and the house was alive with youthful energy and pizza. But real life beckoned and now both of my boys live on their own. 

An older friend from church once told me she always goes through a re-entry period after being with her kids. I've never forgotten our conversation because it put words to my emotional state when the house empties and the quiet returns. 

This year was a bit more challenging since Nathan graduated and essentially moved out for good. He may be back for a short stint, but definitely not for long. While I celebrated all he's accomplished, I fought mild anxiety as his move out day approached. 

Panic tried to take hold as I lay in bed, knowing my mother role was about to morph again. So I took deep breaths, hoping the cool breeze that flowed through my lips would sooth the inner ache.

When we stopped for lunch after lugging his belongings up to his new abode the next day, however, the weirdness finally overflowed in tears. 

"I'm feeling odd," I blurted to threesome in the booth: Sam, Courtney, and Nathan.

"Is it your legs or the fact I'm moving out?" Nathan bluntly asked. 

"I don't know. It didn't help watching you guys put your dad's drafting table together."

Sam snickered.

"I've held onto that stuff for years, thinking you'd want it one day," I countered, "And now it's that day: The blue chair I bought to make him comfortable the week he died. The dresser he refinished before you were born. And his first drafting table. They're in your new place. And I just feel funny."

With that, real tears flowed long enough to expunge the odd feeling I couldn't shake. No matter how much I try, sometimes it just takes a decent cry.

My boys are now the age their father was when we were dating. So watching them put his belongings together? It was simply surreal. 

But the New Year has dawned. My students are hard at work. And I'm determined to finish my book before summer. 

It's time to look ahead. Not back. To relish growth over reflecting on loss. 

For it's a new day. No matter where you are. It's truly a brand new day. Cherish the surreal. But grab hold of all that is now.

 
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