Music has returned to my house. And laughter. And energy. Last night, my boys came back from their summer visitation. The four of them flew from California, unaccompanied. My three-year-old daughter and I went to meet them.
At the airport…
Kathryn and I braved the long and winding security lines, unloading everything down to our last chapstick; even removing our shoes. (“They’re SANDALS,” she instructed airport officials.) I was wise to the recent concern over liquid items, and had emptied anything suspicious from my purse prior to our arrival. Yet I left one curious object in my cell phone pouch: a battery for my dog’s electric fence collar. For some reason that quarter-sized battery was intriguing enough to prompt four re-inspections of my purse through the scanner. Live and learn.
My sons’ flight arrived twenty minutes early, so they were waiting at the gate as we approached. There was a squeal, “Mommy!” and then long hugs. Kathryn was practically tackled to the ground. Everyone was all smiles. Even Kyle approached me with a wide grin, putting his head on my shoulder. As we left the gate, a man in a mobile cart offered to drive us to baggage claim. The six of us climbed aboard and took a spin through the heavy pedestrian traffic. For my younger ones, it might as well have been a ride at an amusement park. They cheered over this unexpected surprise.
Divided Lives
Even though I was delighted to load my sons’ luggage into our van and head for home, on these occasions there’s always some trepidation. I’ve played this divorce game long enough to know that these transition phases are joyous at first, but are usually followed by several days of tears and depression. My oldest son, Garrett, who is nearly sixteen, once explained: “How would you like it if you had to split your life up between your parents so that you’re always missing someone?”
“I wouldn’t,” I admitted. “Not at all.”
My stepdaughters will also return in a few days, and it will be a similar reality for them. Squeals, excitement, bounding up and down the stairs, then several days of tears as they grieve the absence of their mother. It can be an awkward and agonizing position for me, because I want my children—all of them–to be happy. But in so many ways I am helpless. They have been dealt a life-sentence of always having to disconnect and reconnect. Someone they love is always gone. It’s the reality of divorce for children. I try to pick up the pieces, but there are too many.
Life’s Challenges, Large and Small
Garrett opened up his suitcase and found a note left by airport security. “Your luggage was selected for inspection,” it said, in so many words. There was obviously some concern over his hair gel, which had been opened and then tossed back into his suitcase, so that it oozed all over everything during the flight. His books and clothes all were covered with sticky remnants. We surveyed the damage, which was more annoying than permanent. “We’ll clean it up,” I said.
Later Garrett sat down and played one of his favorite piano pieces, showing me that one of the keys needed an adjustment. But I listened with great satisfaction. That’s my boy; and I am so very proud of how he and his brothers have handled all of their life’s challenges. Diabetes. Divorce. Autism. Hair gel disasters. How I wish I could take it all away. Some things can be cleaned up, and others can’t. These are the thoughts that occupy my mind while Garrett’s familiar music drifts into the room, down the hall, and up the stairs. Meanwhile, Riley reorganizes his diabetic supplies, Kyle wanders happily through the living room, and Liam plays with his sister. My boys are home.
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