At the crack of dawn, I was already driving home from the airport, wiping big mama tears from my cheeks. My eldest was headed back to Texas, his fireman gear packed efficiently per his norm. Military precision is his modus operandi.
While he was getting ready to board a plane, I was heading back to a very empty abode. My youngest recently returned to college, so a visit from my boisterous older son was a welcome change from a quiet house.
It’s not that the visit was perfect. He still gets impatient, listens to rap music with lyrics that make me clutch my pearls, leaves the toilet seat up.
But he also now knows how to make a mean New York strip. He washed every dish after I made him his favorite meal. And he was able to speak with some wisdom in hindsight about his rather tumultuous teen years. Oh, and he saves lives for a living–fireman and paramedic.
Long-time readers know my kids and I went through some hard times over the past decade or so. I hate to put it this way but it’s true: I tried very hard to raise boys who weren’t their father. At least their father as he had become. If they were like the man I married way back when, that would have been OK but they couldn’t learn from that man because he seems to have disappeared inside a lesser version of himself.
All in the way of saying, I had some sleepless nights but all seems to have turned out OK in the end. A fairy tale story? No. But the wise among you know fairy tale stories are anything but real life.
So the tears were of sadness, of relief, of happiness—all at the same time.
The house this week was filled with dinners, conversation, young bucks stopping by for a visit. Just last night, I was covering my ear with a pillow so I could get to sleep over the raucous laughter coming from the family room. Yet this morning, it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Blink and it’s gone. The noise, the laughter, the praying at night that wisdom and my own faulty example for how to live would suffice. Family dinners. Smores after. Mounds of laundry, wet towels on the floor, fender benders. Here and gone oh so quickly.
Bailey, our trusty furry friend, doesn’t know what to make of it. Two boys come and gone, her faithful companions. And our neighbor, who for Bailey’s entire life has fed her far too many Milk-Bone dog treats, just moved away for good. As I write this blog in the backyard, Bailey lays in the grass, staring at the neighbor’s house as if willing him to bring her the usual mid-morning snack. Nobody is coming though. He and his wife moved into a retirement home. Twenty-four years of living next to each other and now all that’s left is a house filled with far too much stuff (theirs, not mine). It stands as a reminder to me to lighten up now. A life of accumulated things isn’t much of a life. I’ll take the experiences instead, thank you very much.
I hear kids a few houses away—a family I just love. Their young dad is playing the role of dragon to their princesses and delighted screams waft this way. The mom next door stops by to pet Bailey and laments mean-girl middle school drama. She looks enviously at my clean, quiet deck and says, “Someday.” And I remind her not to wish it away.
Blink and it’s gone.
The good, the bad, and everything in between.
candidkay 
This so resonates! My home has been empty of the daily rush of young lives for a few years now and its not stopped being a challenge to my well being! I miss that craziness, even whilst enjoying a calmer, more relaxed experience of the days. The upside is I finally get to be able to carve out hours at a time to paint – every cloud has that lining!
Isn’t an amazing how as humans we can hold two conflicting emotions at the same time? The missing the craziness while at the same time enjoying the calm. I absolutely understand what you’re talking about! And so glad to hear that you are able to paint now. I see so many women rediscovering creative pursuits once their children leave the house.
Thank you for sharing. This reminds me and makes me think of so many things. The first is something my teacher would say “A house without children is like a cemetary. It has no life.” Not to say that we don’t enjoy our peaceful empty nests but it is nice to have those kids around. You also reminded me that they All come with their challenges and joys. You also reminded me that every moment is a gift. In the midst we often can’t see how beautiful it is along with all the wonderful souls contained within it. Thank you. It is always wonderful visiting your blog. Peace and Blessings.
And it is always wonderful to see that you visited! Thank you for always being so insightful and the kind comments. Here’s to seeing the beauty in the moment.
Life is oceanic, with each tidal sweep bringing something new whilst taking away something we’ve come to cherish.
Pretty profound. Yes, an apt metaphor!
And when it’s gone, it’s devastating. Mine rarely even calls or visits, her life is so busy, you know–it’s like I’m not really a mother anymore and that makes me so sad.
Oh, that can’t be a good feeling. I’m sure many of us know it well. And when you’re young and busy, I think the time flies. And you’re probably not as considerate as you are when you get older.
Beautifully written .. hugs and pats to Bailey
Thank you! From both of us😊🐾
Yes, you’re right. It’s difficult to believe how quickly time goes by. I’m glad you have some happy memories to look back on.
Me too😀. It’s so easy once you realize how fast it goes to get caught up in worrying that you’re in the moment which, of course takes you out of the moment.
Blink and it’s gone is right. Your post is so relatable, Kristine!
Thank you! Glad this one resonated.
A beautifully poignant post Kristine. I don’t have children to move out, but I often wonder what might dog makes of all the people who have come and gone from his life without explanation….
My dog is my third child😊. So I get it!
Aww, I hear ya. I feel ya. Sending a hug x G
Hug accepted and one heading your way.😀
A lovely musing on the passage of time, its bittersweetness…scratches for Bailey, if only virtually.
Bailey and I both thank you😊
Yes, and more blinks and life’s changes lie ahead, Kay, and big joys will raise the tides of spirit once more! Cheers to the great good you and your boys have brought and will bring to the world together.
I’m all for big joys, Mark😀!
Beautifully written. Easy answer is to wave it all goodbye and move on. Not so easy in practice.
I knew you’d get it, Roy! I never did understand the people who make it sound easy.
So true. A beautiful reminder to pause and appreciate what we have in this moment 💕🧡
Thanks, Karen😊
So much wisdom and truth. Thank you! I’m feeling that blink even faster now as a grandmother. Time is precious. ❤️
My grandmother always used to tell me that time would go faster as I got older. She certainly was right. The days can still sometimes be long but the years are flying by!
Oh, what a poignant post. I can relate all too well having recently had my 22yo son fly up to stay with us for three weeks while we’re housesitting in remote Queensland. The time flew and I knew it would, but we all treasured each and every moment. Time is so precious. As are those we love. Thank you for a beautifully written blog post. Sending love and good wishes 💜🙏
Thank you, Miriam! I’ll except the love and good wishes and right back ‘atcha. I’m so glad you were able to enjoy the time with him. And it is the moments that add up. It’s not the big stuff. It’s the moments.
So true. Sometimes when we look ahead we do not know what we are wishing away.
Right? Staying in the moment is the place to be.
All guys leave the toilet seat open. Closing it is a sign that you’ve lost your independence to a wiser person. I close it, now. Well, except my own little bathroom.
They do come around after awhile snd admit the errors of their ways, sort of, don’t they.
My wife’s motto, ‘less is more’. It’s true, but it’s hard getting rid of stuff. I’m still mourning the sale of my 30’ extension ladder. Coulda used it today (and probably killed myself in the process). Do you need a used shop-vac? I’ll sell you my one of three cheap🙀
Oh, I am glad you admit she is a wiser person :-). I am chuckling. And I think she may have saved her life in the sale of that 30 foot extension ladder!
Thanks for the poignant and relatable musings Kristine. Life can so easily slip away, a delicate dance of being in the now with time to rest and reflect. My mother’s passing has given me a reminder to enjoy and make the most of the moments we have.
I hope you are finding peace after your mom’s passing, Brad. I think that shakes most of us to our core. And indeed, as a reminder that all we have is the now. I know you have a knack for enjoying that, so I hope that you have been able to over the past few months.
Thank you. 🙏
Ah Kristine, you are so very right. We wish so much in the beginning…lacking the wisdom yet of what they truly mean. But we eventually can look back and know we have done well…for the best we can anyway, and allowing for the fact we were in school too. This life ever asks us to go beyond what we know…and dares an answer. Many a crooked path, but that perfect answer is through them.
Take a bow kind lady, there is much courage, faith, hope, and ever a meal for any stragglers that wander back, sometimes in joy, some in pain. But more than them all, is that they eventually will for the love they know is always there. Now you and Bailey hold the fort for a while. You never know, a nice lady Labrador may move in next door…and her owner…to distract the quiet a little.
Beautiful post kind lady, shared as only love’s wisdom can. Thank you, it was a joy to read, and so well done, my heart touched it too for the very reasons you spoke 😀❤️🙏
Thank you, Mark! My crooked Path has turned out OK. I think that’s always easier to say in hindsight, then when you’re navigating the curves. And there’s a very tall human that has disrupted the quiet in a very nice way. :-). Bailey even likes him. I hope all is well in your world. I have tried to comment on your blog a couple of times, and for some reason it won’t recognize me. I’ll keep trying!
That is good to hear dear lady, nothing like your world being ‘changed’ either 🤣
And yes to my site being temperamental. Would you believe I’ve just moved to a new host (I’m in America now), and a brand new load of WordPress…and it still works worse than an original 1927 typewriter. Go figure. Many sites are all asking for sign ins, even though you are already signed in. The only thing I have found is when I’m on someones site the first thing I do is a quick scroll up and down to make the ‘follow’ rectangle at the bottom right come up and if it is greyed out I click on the three dots next to it, and on that menu is a option to ‘log in’. Click it and just your Gravatar comes up with a ‘continue’ button and that’s it, it will swing back to where you were but this time signed in. But make sure you do this first as anything you have previously written will disappear, hence why I do it first. Many a lovely comment is out in the ether’s somewhere. But…if all goes wrong…I have these nice carrier pigeons for sale, only done 2 million miles…interested? 🤣
No worries—it works! Hopefully you saw my recent comment.
Yes, your words was wonderfully received dear lady. I think I might have finally held my mouse button correctly at last 🤣
Anyway, glad to hear your beautiful wisdom from your world my friend, a great post. May both our worlds all now begin to flow well from the pen 😀❤️🙏
Oops…not that your world needs it Kristine…at all. Your pen is speaking truly 🤣❤️🙏
so true, yesterday I had 2 little boys & now I have 2 grown men grandsons in their 20’s, grandkids in single digit & a great grandbaby – where did the time go?
I hear you! But isn’t it nice to see what you had a hand in creating?
yes, it is my footprint on the world for when I leave
Could we continue to put that off into the far ahead future?
okay
What a beautiful tribute to, well, life. Almost all of us can relate to some part of your story, Kristine. So well done.
Thank you, Jane😊. Kind words. It is a beautiful life, warts and all.
Today is a rainy day, and I am staying home with a slight sore throat — and hoping to be well enough to do a gig tomorrow (having cancelled one today…) Thus I am particularly grateful to be reminded to appreciate RIGHT NOW, even though it may not be perfect…
Hope you beat that sore throat and are feeling better soon! Good luck on the gig tomorrow.
A touching post, Kristine. Ours are gone too. We do have one close, so Sunday dinner is a regular thing. That, too, seems short-lived. You must be proud of your kids. They sound wonderful.
Oh, Sunday dinner is the best! I do envy you that, John. But I’m so happy that you have one child close enough but you can do it. I feel like it just starts and ends a week in a really nice way.
It does and we are grateful for the time.
I feel every word of this Kristine. My eldest spent a lot of time here in the past three weeks – we were on a mission of roasting, saucing, canning. And he had to leave abruptly on Thursday, leaving me to finish what we started as well as his old cat. He started a new job (with a one-day notice) a 9-hour car drive away and will be gone for six weeks for the first stint. After that, it will be some schedule of back and forth. It was nice having the company, the laughs, ribbing, working side-by-side.
Back to that quiet that has its very good moments (don’t get me wrong) but sometimes is just too much so.
Oh, I hear you Dale. It’s not even the big moments that you mess. It’s exactly what you described. It was so nice to be cooking dinner while he was sitting at the island chatting with me. Or being able to relax as he washed the dishes and told me funny stories. Those are the moments I miss. I’m so glad that you both were able to cook together! I know it’s a shared passion. And I hope that after this stent, he can come back to stay with you for a bit. Big hugs to you!
You’re right. It’s the little things.
I wish my daughter wanted to share more but I won’t push. It has to be wanted by her as well.
Big hugs to you, too!
Wow just so right. Our youngest just left for college but our daughter living at home after college till she moves to the city. Sometimes the mess and chaos drives me nuts but I am nervous for the silence. You are a brilliant writer and I enjoy every one of your posts.
Oh, Shelley. How can it be? Weren’t we just ushering them into toddler classes yesterday? Enjoy your time with your daughter while she’s home. At least she’ll be close. And the silence brings gifts, if you can receive them. I’ve had several new beginnings since my boys have left home and it’s all good. I just feel like time keeps marching forward so fast! Hugs to you.
Yes. We can’t be reminded too many times to appreciate — if at all possible — what is happening right NOW in our lives because,”Blink and it’s gone…” Thank you for another wise and beautifully written blog post about real life.
Thank you :-). It’s that elusive now. When you stop in the moment to focus on it, you lose it. It can only be lived in the moment. Sometimes, you just want to hold onto it. I hope all is well with you! And that you’re enjoying a glorious now.