See you later

And the boys are gone. For those who don't know, my sons (the boys) came home for Spring Break. Life was good, good, good.

There was a flurry of activities while they were here but if you ask me about it, I'd probably say that we did this and that...

What did we do? How did the time fly by so fast? When did they grow up?

When my oldest son went to college, I had a break down. I cried and cried and cried for 2 weeks. Almost non-stop. My daily routine for those weeks was thus:

• Wake up and cry while drinking coffee.
• Get ready for work and cry during the commute.
• Work, work, work.
• Go to Zilker Park during lunch, park and cry, cry, cry.
• Call everyone on my cell phone and ask them, "My life is over! I have no purpose. What do I do now?"
• Put makeup on and go back to work.
• Work, work, work.
• On the way back home, cry, cry cry.
• Come home, curl up in bed and cry, cry, cry.

Everyone around me was very worried. They threw practical suggestions at me. And I hated them all. They said:

• You still have one more son living with you.
• This is what you raised your son to do.
• You left home.
• This is what they are supposed to do. You should be proud!

Like I said, I hated them all with a vengence.

After 2 weeks of crying, I stopped. And looked at reality and life as it was. I had raised two wonderful sons. A task accomplished. A check mark on my life's to do list. And I settled down.

When my younger son left for college, he was simply moving from our home in Texas to our home in Kentucky. It was a-okay!

This morning as they left, I held back my tears. They hate it when I cry. So I smiled and laughed and reminded them...

"7 more weeks until you come back! And the clock is ticking!"

But sometimes just not fast enough.