I am a firm believer that if I haven’t used something I have stored within the last 12 months that it needs to be regifted, recycled, or properly disposed of. With a formal caveat - it CAN NOT belong to one of the kids!
I'm serious. The above claim is written in ink and not pencil and I am pleased to report that for the last four or five years, the double car garage at the homestead has been filled with extra furniture and appliances belonging to the aforementioned offspring.
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| If you love something set it free. If it comes back it's your. If it doesn't, it never was. TAKEN: BUSKING 2018, CUBA 2017, LAKE SIMCOE 2016 |
Most of it landed in there as a result of them returning home for a brief stint, eventually moving in with a roommate, accumulating items that were classified as over flow. Over the recent holiday break, everything was pulled out, sorted through and dealt with accordingly.
The goal was simple. To dig out and once again set up my killer home office that I’d strategically packed in there a little over 5 years ago.
In digging for that treasure, I came across an old drum kit belonging to Jukebox. For some reason, I just stared at it before I began moving it. Truth is I stood completely frozen as the last decade simply flashed before my eyes; the good, the bad and the ugly.
In digging for that treasure, I came across an old drum kit belonging to Jukebox. For some reason, I just stared at it before I began moving it. Truth is I stood completely frozen as the last decade simply flashed before my eyes; the good, the bad and the ugly.
Which leads me to my point. Nothing prepares you for an empty nest.
I’m sure it’s because there’s no regulated handbook for parenting. By the time they're ready to graduate high school, they typically think we totally suck and our speaking voice is worse than nails on the proverbial chalkboard.
I’m sure it’s because there’s no regulated handbook for parenting. By the time they're ready to graduate high school, they typically think we totally suck and our speaking voice is worse than nails on the proverbial chalkboard.
To be brutally honest, I think I went through the “I’m your mother” motions far longer than ever needed. I clung on for dear life until I was eventually replaced by their personal voice and understanding, proving mine no longer mattered.
In everything I have experienced on my journey, I feel this was the toughest mom lesson I learned. The worst part is that I’m so thick, I needed to learn it three times. All individual, very painful life lessons.
Anyway, sitting here typing, my mind is flooded with thoughts of my life these past 30 years. Which is why I will be always be forever grateful for my double car garage.
It’s like I can close my eyes and I can hear their young voices bellowing again.
I can hear that high school garage band practicing, the giggling girls definitely talking about boys, with the picnic table front and centre and the music blaring.
I can hear that high school garage band practicing, the giggling girls definitely talking about boys, with the picnic table front and centre and the music blaring.
Yep, just like that… They’re all instantly home again!
Where does the time go?
Where does the time go?
