ARRRGH ! Kyle is coming home...
And so it commences, The massive house cleaning and shopping and primping all in expectation of the King making his annual visit home.
Wait a minute ! Not the King, Kyle...shaking my head I commence once again to preparing the "nest" for his arrival.
I have found that since he has left the nest I am a carefree bird. If the dishes stay in the sink all night..so what..
If the table looks like Mt Everest with the mountains of papers on it..who cares ?
Not that the house is a an igloo,that has tunnels to every room, just a bit more casual.I find I am no longer the clean house tyrant I once was.TG
I find myself acting in ways that no longer are me. I get anxious and become who he remembers me to be instead of allowing him to see who I am. (BTW That revelation just typed itself out WOW).
"I miss your cooking mom" Another panic , racing about to obtain ingredients for dishes he loves,only to have him spend less time at home and more time with forgotten friends. I have a huge refrigerator filled to the brim with meaty substances I will never consume. SIGH. LOL
"I love your bed" which translates into ,I sleep in the King sized bed when you are not home. I know this because when I am ready to hop into it,it looks as if a cyclone hit it and everywhere else my son walked. When he was just a wee lad, he would destroy any room he walked into ,this continued into his teen years, Just walking from the door to the bathroom to his room and back was like following Hansel and Gretel around.Kyle is flying out with the Air Force soon, hoping AF will change that a bit.LOL
I have come to realize I am but a weigh station in my son's life. You impart love,nurturing and wisdom then poof they are on their way again. Periodically returning for more of the good stuff.
What a gift when looking at it with NEW eyes.
I realize the words "HOME" and "Mom" evoke different meanings according to everyone's story. And I honor that.
I understand that it is not so much the meals , nor the house that Kyle misses. It is the familiarity of home. And to understand that,I must look at Kyle. Home to Kyle is friends,with a wee bit of family.A warm house with a comfy bed. A conversation on a mobile is less personal than one spent on the comfy couch with Mom.
Then I introspectively looked at my own meaning of Home and MOM and saw what I believed , honored where it came from and through out what was no longer useful,thereby freeing my heart to join in and create a being of MOM and Home that was Me.
Oh I still run about like a maniac when he calls ,but now it is to create the cyclone that to the Tasmanian devil is Home.