The Party

Father and Son

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.


4 Comments on “The Party”

  1. Drive carefully my friend. Go fix your heart and your son’s. ❤️


  2. Nena says:

    Just read back to find out about what happened with your son. A response is good. Seems he is still holding on to you and does not want to lose you either. Definitely go:)

    Liked by 1 person

    • fictionalkevin says:

      Thanks for the encouragement Nina. I did. Things are working out there with him. It’s tough, but it’s just growing pains for both of us. Thanks for reading, liking and commenting. I notice and appreciate it.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. […] the “Waco” folder on his computer and paced through pics of Her.  Her eyes. Her smile. Her kids. Benz. That pic She made for him on a dare. Her with friends. Ugly Christmas sweaters. Joe […]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s