Fade Away

I miss family dinners. My boys are off creating lives of their own. Playing sports, pursuing other interests. Working. Planning their futures. The girls are equally busy, but still need us there with them every day. Exhausing and wonderful in equal measure. I know my life will one day be less about them and more about me. I’m both dreading and looking forward to that. Hey, I’m not building that retirement fund for nothing. We’re going places and doing things, me and that guy I married. Things I’ve put on the back burner for a couple of decades now. We’ve got plans.

But for now, I cherish the present. We have this routine at dinnertime: each person takes a turn telling the rest of us about the best part of their day. I’ve learned so much about my kids from this short, nightly conversation. Gleaned insights into their goals and dreams. Shared their disappointments and failures. Celebrated their successes. Bolstered their flagging self-confidence and cautioned their ego-centric behavior. Rolled my eyes. Cried. Laughed.

Getting us all around the dinner table these days is almost impossible. Too many other things intefere. School Sports. Clubs. Work. So as my children explore their independence—and as I let them—I find myself grieving for this small thing. The sound of silverware on plates. Food being passed around the table. Burst of laughter. Good-natured bickering. But most of all, I miss how we shared the happiest moments of our lives with each other, which was by far the best sustenance of all.

In slightly less maudlin news, we painted E’s room for her birthday. Her favorite color is blue. We learned early on not to give her anything pink, lest she smother us in our sleep. Yes, that is a softball sitting next to all her body creams, makeup, and perfumes. It was signed by Jennie Finch. My daughter’s mantra is, “You can do anything in a dress. Including pitch a perfect game.” Which is true, because I’ve seen her do it.