Just one small thing

July12 114

She’s at camp. And I miss her.

All the way home, after dropping her off, I felt a vague uneasiness, an undercurrent of anxiety. When I expressed it to Kevin, he understood. We were both feeling it. The feeling of not being near one of our children, which is a luxury we completely take for granted in every day life.

It came to me: this is parenthood. Our children are going to grow up and away from us, but we may not exactly grow up and away from them. In some fundamental way, we will always feel that they belong to us; even when they are quite certain they don’t.

I’m not talking about this little one, of course. She still makes her claims on me as strongly as I claim her. But in ten years? Twenty? Thirty?

Will it feel then, as it does right now, that a small piece of me has been mislaid?

Happy Canada Day!
Work + Play = Summer Holidays

7 Comments

  1. I feel that way even when the kids are just having a sleepover somewhere. The house feels weird.

    Reply
  2. Oh Carrie. You’ve expressed perfectly the feelings I have this week too. The child of ours who is at camp is the quietest, the one who needs time alone the most and yet I miss this child continually and continuously.

    Reply
  3. My mother told me about this feeling when I was on the verge of becoming a mother and I thought she was exaggerating then, but I don’t think so. She was expressing the pain of not being to fix my adult life for me either, the way she could care for me and comfort me when I was a child.

    Yowsers.

    Reply
  4. When i was a mother of babies
    I rocked them, made them better
    When I was mother of toddlers
    I helped them with whatever
    When I was a mother of teens
    I prayed when they went wild
    Now I am a mother of adults
    Helpless s a child

    Margo’s observation prompted me to send this to you. I started young ( too young) mine are 31 and 37 and I still do not know how to be the mother of men and so that poem— written when my oldest left home contains the hardest truth I’ve ever written I’d say. I long for those little arms and the bliss of having them under my roof. And safe in all ways. Glad to be a grandma and have a dog. ANd read your blog!`

    Reply
  5. Thank you, all, for your comments. And thank you, Sheree for sharing your poem. *The bliss of having them under my roof* Amen!

    She comes home today!

    Reply
  6. Funny, I was just thinking about this tonight and mentioned to my husband how having little kids is the most wonderful, fulfilling adventure of my life. I never want to take these years for granted because I know they’re going to fly by. Seeing their toys lying around, hearing the little voices and the footsteps running around – as endless as it seems sometimes – will someday be a faint memory.

    Reply
  7. The baby stage is already a faint memory for me. It’s hard to believe.

    Reply

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