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laurenwhitehurst8

A New Chunk



All summer, we were four. Through three-plus weeks of travel filled with sights and cards, through three more weeks of pickleball, golf, movies and games in Colorado. And then, this Monday, we flew to Los Angeles and started shrinking. Tuesday night, I commanded a group hug before Jack left the hotel for his new apartment, Emma now alone in her double room until she left to catch the 7AM to Newark. Wednesday, our remaining trio finished the crossword over oatmeal cookies. Jim and Jack then hugged before Jack drove “home” in his new car, as Jim was on the same flight the next morning. Thursday: a day together, just us. A grocery run, some parallel parking practice, a second Target run, a walk (in LA) for ice cream. Jack drove me to the hotel after dinner. He parked so he could give me a hug. I took two. And today, Friday, I boarded the same 7AM flight and left my little boy in Los Angeles. Except he’s not little anymore.

 

Onto Emma. We go to Nashville next Wednesday as three only. Same rough plan though Jim and I will leave together this time. I don’t think that will make it any easier. 

 

And then? A world without frequent and regular school breaks where everybody convenes at home for weeks at a time. A world where at least a couple of annual family trips to exotic locations is no longer the norm. A world of visits that will inevitably feel shorter than what we’re all used to and more often will be on their turf and missing one of our clan. It’s such a positive evolution in theory – I know, in fact, that I would be far sadder if this wasn’t my new reality. I am excited that Jack and Emma face a wonderful new phase of life. But just as I wasn’t able to truly understand what it would feel like when they both left for college at the same time, I’m just as unprepared for this new existence. I can see that I am entering a world where I am no less a mom, but also one where being mom has a very different orientation. Even through college, I remained a caregiver and a teacher. I still swooped in on demand as the superhero in their movies. I’ll never stop being willing to do just that, but I can tell already, I now need to wait to be asked. In absence of a request, I’m going to have to get used to just being a fan, cheerleading and supporting their independence.

 

I can recall times I told the twins that life is lived in chunks. A baby chunk, a toddler chunk, chunks of grade school, middle school, high school, college. Chunks of summers in between. And for some reason, I associated the end of school with the end of chunks. I saw adult life as one big chunk. I don’t think that’s right anymore because I definitely feel as if I am currently at the end of a chunk – next Sunday, when I fly out of Nashville and leave Emma as I have left Jack today, both of my twins will have launched into adult life. And I start a new chunk of my life – one with adult kids. The tears are bittersweet.

 

Addendum:

It’s been a very long time since I have posted anything on this forum. I finished my middle grade novel last spring and turned my focus to what I was calling conscious “mom-ing” -- in anticipation of where I am right now. The novel is not yet published, but it will be sometime in the next twelve months, most likely by me as a self-publisher. I am not sure when or if I will post here again, but I promise an update when I figure out where I’m headed. Given the new life-chunk I’m starting, I have some self-defining work to do.

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michelle
Aug 02

Been there and you are right. There is no beginning or end, it is a constant melding of times in their (and our lives). Think of it like chocolate chunks, melting together. Sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet but always delicious. 🤗

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andrea
Jul 27

Thinking of you, with love and understanding. A

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