We celebrated my husband’s birthday yesterday. It was a strange celebration day in many ways, and a precursor of what is to come.
We spent the day mostly in the usual Sunday ways, but in the afternoon, when present opening time came around, we had to call up our daughter via the computer so she could join in the family circle from far away. That was good, but not quite the same.
After dinner that night, one boy went to a praise and worship youth service and one went to his girlfriend’s house. So after all our birthdaying, my husband and I were alone in the house.
Then it hit me: this is what if feels like for my parents when we all come over to celebrate something or other and then we all leave again. Nice and quiet, yes, but with a bittersweet edge. All the children have their own plans, their own friends, their own lives. And while that makes me very happy (because frankly, I’m ready to have my own life again, too), I see how strange it will feel when the quiet times are broken by the chaotic ones, instead of the other way around.