When the going gets tough
1.18.09
It was the dreaded day today: the day when I had to take Sean back to school. Really, where did this last month go? A lot has happened (I made the observation to him that we both had surgery, for starters), and yet very little has happened. All I know is that I miss him a lot.
Here’s how the day went: After church, Sean and I went back home to load his remaining possessions. (We had taken a load Saturday night, too, on our somewhat-last-minute way to Target to get him all stocked up on shampoo and whatnot, and he needed to take inventory of what he was low on. I groused a bit that he’d had the entire last month to buy this stuff, but he just hadn’t known what he needed… and yet I really didn’t mind the little road trip at all. It was more time with him, and it would save him — ultimately me — from having to pay a whole lot more by shopping near campus for the same stuff.)
As we loaded up, I had one eye on the clock. I needed to pick up Claire at 12:30 from her babysitting job at church, but I saw that she didn’t have her cell phone with her, so there was no way to reach her if I was running late. Therefore, I really needed to be on time, but Sean and I were taking our time, trying to be careful not to forget anything. That’s when he realized that he didn’t know where his French text books were — the ones that he bought when he started French last semester, then dropped it (good call, as it turns out; 18 credits would have been too much), then signed up to take it this semester instead. We thought and thought about where they could have moved from the position where they’d been securely lodged all semester on the floor of his closet… but they were definitely not there now. He concluded that he must have taken them Saturday night.
Finally it was time for the inevitable: the loading of the piano. I didn’t like the unloading job a month ago, and I didn’t relish the reloading job either. Somehow Alex managed to miss both events, but I certainly hope he’ll be around when move-out time comes in May. Anyway, we managed it, and off we went, even with Ginger in tow.
Sean kept a firm hand on the piano, which by now is probably in need to some good bolt tightening. It’s been on a lot of road trips. I tried to make slow, calm turns, but he was convinced that the piano would have tipped over sideways in the minivan if he hadn’t been keeping in line.
Arriving at Chadbourne, we noted that there were no parking spots in the circular drive — lots of other folks were doing the same thing we were, albeit not with pianos. (I did see one young man, though, wheeling out a DVD player atop a monstrous TV, and his dad was tagging along behind carrying the empty box from a big flat-screen TV.) We got all the non-piano stuff into the building, into the laundry cart, up the elevator, and unloaded. Still no sign of the French books, but Sean hoped that he’d just thrown them into the big bundle he’d made out of his comforter.
Then we headed back to get the piano, hoping that a spot closer to the door would have opened up by then. The parking lot, post-deep-freeze, was slushy and awful, and I was dreading this as it was — I didn’t want it complicated by not having anywhere to set the thing down mid-transfer if that was called for. It’s heavy, after all, and really awkward to carry. I was wishing that Tony, Sean’s roommate, would just pop up out of nowhere to take the job off my hands like he did when we left in December, but no such luck. He still hadn’t arrived back at Chad.
We saw that a spot had opened up right in front of the door… but then we also saw that a car was headed straight for it and was going to get there before we did. The situation called for profanity, and I’m afraid I used some. All was forgiven, though, as that young person merely grabbed some gear from the back seat and left — no parking or going into the building or long, tearful goodbyes.
So we nabbed the primo spot! Right in front! We got ourselves in position and started the process which, by now, has become pretty familiar: with both of us inside the minivan, I in the center and Sean near the way-back door, we scoot it toward the door. Then as Sean was going to reposition himself on the ground to lower it out of the van, his slush-covered shoes betrayed him, and he slipped off the back of the van, onto the ground. I was horrified. I feared that he’d hurt his tailbone or something — it looked like a nasty fall. He didn’t look like he was all right, but eventually he got up and said he’d landed on his butt, not his tailbone, so the only real problem was being wet and dirty. He went inside to wash his hands while I hunched over inside the van and kept a watchful eye on my watch. I really didn’t want our last moments together to be all rushed, but I really had to go pick up Claire.
Eventually Sean reemerged, and that’s when I sprang it on him that we’d need someone to open the doors for us — one was on security key, and the other one we wouldn’t be able to open with a piano in our hands. So back in he went and enticed a nice mom and her son into our fold. We managed to get the beast out of the van, did our characteristic shuffle through the door, at which point the son who’d been recruited to open it for us said, “Oh, I could have helped with that!” Thanks. Thanks a lot.
The rest was relatively easy — just inching it onto the elevator and then down the hall and into the room. By then I really did need to leave to go get Claire, so the goodbye promised to be hasty. Sean had to get moving, too, though — a friend had invited him to the symphony at 2:00, so he needed to change out of his wet clothes and get things put away in his room. We had bought him a new long coat to wear when he wears his tuxedo for choral concerts, and he planned to wear that to the symphony, along with the off-white scarf and black gloves what went with it. I bet he cut a dashing figure.
As I say, I didn’t want our goodbye to be rushed, and so I tried to take my time, even under the circumstances. I gave Sean a big hug and said that I’d had a few tears at home as he had been waiting in the van for me, so maybe I’d be all right… but of course I wasn’t — I was saying so in that Minnie Mouse voice that women get when they try to talk and cry at the same time.
I thanked him for all the support he’d given me during the break with my mastectomy, and even though I know I’ll see him again in two weeks when we attend the performances of a play he’ll be in, this was another goodbye nonetheless — a goodbye to a guy who’s changed some and grown some and is finding out who he wants to be in the world.
Claire was late getting out, so even though I was actually pretty much on time, I had a few minutes to sit in the car and — yes — cry for a while. She felt very sorry for me when she got in the car, but I said I’d be all right. And I will be. But just not today.
We ran some errands, which was a nice diversion for taking my mind off of my sadness, but I had planned the later afternoon in advance, anticipating that I’d be sad or tired or both — and it was both. I went into Sean’s room to put back some books that he’d sent home with me, and of course the emptiness of it hit me hard.
Though we had nearly emptied the room when he went to school in preparation for what we hoped would be a lot of showings as we put the house on the market, he had nonetheless filled it with the accoutrements that make up who he is for the last month. Now there was none of that, and it was back to being the pleasant, but vacant and sterile place that it has been all fall. I sat down on the bed and cried some more. Then I looked at the nightstand, where one of the few objects remained: a box of tissues. “How handy…” I thought.
That’s when I put my sad-day plan into effect: I went to my bedroom for a nap. I had been hoping that it would at least snow so that I could have that lovely thing to look at, and as if on cue, it actually was snowing. I left the blind up so that I could see it while I cried myself to sleep.
Alex called a few hours later, and the ringing phone woke me up. I have to admit that I was a little irritated that he didn’t seem to remember that it surely would have been a difficult day for me. “How are you?” he asked breezily. “Well, kind of sad. I took Sean back today…” I guess he has a lot of other things on his mind as he continues to get things up and running at his new job out of state.
He’ll be gone for another week… Claire had a movie to go to… I had work to do… and life goes on. That didn’t mean, though, that I didn’t get the accursed lump in my throat when I returned to my routine of saying goodnight to Sean, even though he wasn’t in his bed.
Here’s how the day went: After church, Sean and I went back home to load his remaining possessions. (We had taken a load Saturday night, too, on our somewhat-last-minute way to Target to get him all stocked up on shampoo and whatnot, and he needed to take inventory of what he was low on. I groused a bit that he’d had the entire last month to buy this stuff, but he just hadn’t known what he needed… and yet I really didn’t mind the little road trip at all. It was more time with him, and it would save him — ultimately me — from having to pay a whole lot more by shopping near campus for the same stuff.)
As we loaded up, I had one eye on the clock. I needed to pick up Claire at 12:30 from her babysitting job at church, but I saw that she didn’t have her cell phone with her, so there was no way to reach her if I was running late. Therefore, I really needed to be on time, but Sean and I were taking our time, trying to be careful not to forget anything. That’s when he realized that he didn’t know where his French text books were — the ones that he bought when he started French last semester, then dropped it (good call, as it turns out; 18 credits would have been too much), then signed up to take it this semester instead. We thought and thought about where they could have moved from the position where they’d been securely lodged all semester on the floor of his closet… but they were definitely not there now. He concluded that he must have taken them Saturday night.
Finally it was time for the inevitable: the loading of the piano. I didn’t like the unloading job a month ago, and I didn’t relish the reloading job either. Somehow Alex managed to miss both events, but I certainly hope he’ll be around when move-out time comes in May. Anyway, we managed it, and off we went, even with Ginger in tow.
Sean kept a firm hand on the piano, which by now is probably in need to some good bolt tightening. It’s been on a lot of road trips. I tried to make slow, calm turns, but he was convinced that the piano would have tipped over sideways in the minivan if he hadn’t been keeping in line.
Arriving at Chadbourne, we noted that there were no parking spots in the circular drive — lots of other folks were doing the same thing we were, albeit not with pianos. (I did see one young man, though, wheeling out a DVD player atop a monstrous TV, and his dad was tagging along behind carrying the empty box from a big flat-screen TV.) We got all the non-piano stuff into the building, into the laundry cart, up the elevator, and unloaded. Still no sign of the French books, but Sean hoped that he’d just thrown them into the big bundle he’d made out of his comforter.
Then we headed back to get the piano, hoping that a spot closer to the door would have opened up by then. The parking lot, post-deep-freeze, was slushy and awful, and I was dreading this as it was — I didn’t want it complicated by not having anywhere to set the thing down mid-transfer if that was called for. It’s heavy, after all, and really awkward to carry. I was wishing that Tony, Sean’s roommate, would just pop up out of nowhere to take the job off my hands like he did when we left in December, but no such luck. He still hadn’t arrived back at Chad.
We saw that a spot had opened up right in front of the door… but then we also saw that a car was headed straight for it and was going to get there before we did. The situation called for profanity, and I’m afraid I used some. All was forgiven, though, as that young person merely grabbed some gear from the back seat and left — no parking or going into the building or long, tearful goodbyes.
So we nabbed the primo spot! Right in front! We got ourselves in position and started the process which, by now, has become pretty familiar: with both of us inside the minivan, I in the center and Sean near the way-back door, we scoot it toward the door. Then as Sean was going to reposition himself on the ground to lower it out of the van, his slush-covered shoes betrayed him, and he slipped off the back of the van, onto the ground. I was horrified. I feared that he’d hurt his tailbone or something — it looked like a nasty fall. He didn’t look like he was all right, but eventually he got up and said he’d landed on his butt, not his tailbone, so the only real problem was being wet and dirty. He went inside to wash his hands while I hunched over inside the van and kept a watchful eye on my watch. I really didn’t want our last moments together to be all rushed, but I really had to go pick up Claire.
Eventually Sean reemerged, and that’s when I sprang it on him that we’d need someone to open the doors for us — one was on security key, and the other one we wouldn’t be able to open with a piano in our hands. So back in he went and enticed a nice mom and her son into our fold. We managed to get the beast out of the van, did our characteristic shuffle through the door, at which point the son who’d been recruited to open it for us said, “Oh, I could have helped with that!” Thanks. Thanks a lot.
The rest was relatively easy — just inching it onto the elevator and then down the hall and into the room. By then I really did need to leave to go get Claire, so the goodbye promised to be hasty. Sean had to get moving, too, though — a friend had invited him to the symphony at 2:00, so he needed to change out of his wet clothes and get things put away in his room. We had bought him a new long coat to wear when he wears his tuxedo for choral concerts, and he planned to wear that to the symphony, along with the off-white scarf and black gloves what went with it. I bet he cut a dashing figure.
As I say, I didn’t want our goodbye to be rushed, and so I tried to take my time, even under the circumstances. I gave Sean a big hug and said that I’d had a few tears at home as he had been waiting in the van for me, so maybe I’d be all right… but of course I wasn’t — I was saying so in that Minnie Mouse voice that women get when they try to talk and cry at the same time.
I thanked him for all the support he’d given me during the break with my mastectomy, and even though I know I’ll see him again in two weeks when we attend the performances of a play he’ll be in, this was another goodbye nonetheless — a goodbye to a guy who’s changed some and grown some and is finding out who he wants to be in the world.
Claire was late getting out, so even though I was actually pretty much on time, I had a few minutes to sit in the car and — yes — cry for a while. She felt very sorry for me when she got in the car, but I said I’d be all right. And I will be. But just not today.
We ran some errands, which was a nice diversion for taking my mind off of my sadness, but I had planned the later afternoon in advance, anticipating that I’d be sad or tired or both — and it was both. I went into Sean’s room to put back some books that he’d sent home with me, and of course the emptiness of it hit me hard.
Though we had nearly emptied the room when he went to school in preparation for what we hoped would be a lot of showings as we put the house on the market, he had nonetheless filled it with the accoutrements that make up who he is for the last month. Now there was none of that, and it was back to being the pleasant, but vacant and sterile place that it has been all fall. I sat down on the bed and cried some more. Then I looked at the nightstand, where one of the few objects remained: a box of tissues. “How handy…” I thought.
That’s when I put my sad-day plan into effect: I went to my bedroom for a nap. I had been hoping that it would at least snow so that I could have that lovely thing to look at, and as if on cue, it actually was snowing. I left the blind up so that I could see it while I cried myself to sleep.
Alex called a few hours later, and the ringing phone woke me up. I have to admit that I was a little irritated that he didn’t seem to remember that it surely would have been a difficult day for me. “How are you?” he asked breezily. “Well, kind of sad. I took Sean back today…” I guess he has a lot of other things on his mind as he continues to get things up and running at his new job out of state.
He’ll be gone for another week… Claire had a movie to go to… I had work to do… and life goes on. That didn’t mean, though, that I didn’t get the accursed lump in my throat when I returned to my routine of saying goodnight to Sean, even though he wasn’t in his bed.
