Melancholy Memories

Just sitting here within my dominions pondering those occasions in childhood when it was time to leave our grandparents' house and go back home.  Tearful they were.  Such a contrast to the excitement of arrival were those sad farewells.  In the car, we would wave as we cried, waving until the house was out of sight.  I don't have a memory of either of my grandparents actually weeping.  Since it was hard for him to get around, we always said our good-byes to Granddaddy inside.  He didn't say much, just "Bye-bye, now, be good, and come back to see us." So, it was always Grandma who saw us to the back porch and watched us begin our long drive home.

Miss Rory

Now that I have my own grand children, it interests me to imagine how my grandparents felt whenever we grandchildren finally left after a long visit.  Yes, we had long visits.  Couple of weeks ever summer.  Thanksgiving.  Christmas.  Seems there were more.  I spent almost my entire fourth grade year there.  Yet, when we left, it was always the same.  Sad.  So, so sad!

But I wonder how it was for them?


Haydin and Rory left for Fort Lewis early this morning while it was yet dark.  We all said good-bye last night because they would be leaving this morning so early.  We all went out to eat last night at the Fatz Cafe for our final get-together.  Our kitchen is in such a state that I called Connie and suggested that we go our for a date tonight.  I told her we could eat anywhere except Fatz.  I didn't want to have to look at the table where we all sat last night.

Haydin

At the table, I recall the little man kept singing a line, "Baa, baa, black sheep, ever any wool."  That was his memory from one of the nursery rhymes we had been singing together the night before to the accompaniment of You Tube videos.  All day long that tune was stuck in my head.  I made faces at Rory and took pictures of her and carried her to the car as we were leaving.

It has seemed all day that a lump in my throat has alternated with sighs of relief.  Three weeks is a long time to entertain a four year-old and his eleven month-old sister--who was just getting used to me, by the way.  I called Connie two or three times to tell her that I missed the little man and Miss Rory.  The two of us comforted each other and we reminded ourselves that there will be other visits to come.  Small comfort that, though, seeing that this latest visit has just come to a sudden end.

It's all so melancholy.  Clear as day I can still see Grandma returning my waves, even though the tears were running.  Why did I think of that scene all day?

It wasn't like that today.  Not for me.  Rebekah and the kids were gone before I arose.  They drove to Atlanta but missed their 10:45 flight and had to catch the one at 3:00 p.m.  I felt so sorry that the kids had to endure such a long, monotonous trip.  When I got home, I mean ... when I arrived at my dominions, I started tracking their flight on FlightStats.Com (they're approaching Colby, Kansas as I write this line).  Between updates, I looked around the house at the toys and stuff they left.  A Spiderman baseball cap, an unused diaper, children's books stacked up on the shelf, loose toys in a bin, a car and a tiny jet plane on my bookcase.  Of course it is sad.  That's why I'm writing, I guess.

But it's not all sad.  Connie and I are going out in a little bit.  To celebrate, is the reason, though we're not supposed to call it that, says our respective consciences.

Yet, I imagine that, once our car went around the curve and disappeared from sight, Grandma went back in the house and, after a little while, said to Grandaddy, "Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm, those boys sure are a handful."

To which Granddaddy probably replied, "Yep."

And after that rather stimulating conversation, they probably enjoyed a nice evening together.  So, I think that's what Connie and I shall do, just not at Fatz.

Haydin, Rory, and Beek
heading for Washington

Their flight just crossed over into Colorado.  They are a little more than half way there.  If all goes well, while Connie and I are having our little celebration, they will be having one of their own, as the children are reunited with their dad.

And new memories will continue to crowd out old ones.