The PartyPosted: September 6, 2015 | |
I sit here, fighting the eternal “should” debate.
Labor Day weekend here in the US and I planned a full weekend. Friday night was Fleetwood Mac (well, a reasonably good cover band), then to Chattanooga yesterday to meet Waco‘s family, then a party to watch fireworks tonight.
Today I slept in, lacked the motivation to do much and took a nap. It was nice to have a day where there were no deadlines, emails and expectations. I eventually ate a sausage wrapped in a tortilla.
The party tonight would be good for me. Smiles and hugs and music and fireworks. Meet some new people. I’m responsible for buns and dessert. I’m thinking cheesecake.
I should go.
But my mind is screaming with indiscernible words.
Something is there. A festering boil of thoughts. Just out of reach.
Last night I spent with Waco’s wonderful, all fully grown, children and their significants. It was fun and amazing and reminded me how much I miss my own. Driving home on a mostly deserted I75 last night a sadness overcame me. My son responded to me this past week, but things are far from good.
No closure. No embrace. Just a few millimeters closer.
I want to cry and I don’t know how.
I should go. I will go.