It started early this summer. Subtle hints dropped, direct and dire predictions  flung (“Those were the best times of your life, when your kids were at home; oh, you’ll look back on those days and wish….”), and everything in between….
I’d tried not to give it an inordinate amount of brain wattage, but people kept bringing it up.
Yep, son K is back to college for his senior year, and daughter Belle begins her first. On the drive back home to Hillsboro, after we’d taken Belle to her UPS freshman orientation, I said to MH, “It’s not like we just dropped her off for summer camp, is it?”
The She Meant Well  award re this situation goes to my maternal unit, as per our Tuesday phone conversation. We talked about MH and I taking Belle up to college for freshman orientation last week, and how K would be returning to Tacoma this week. My mother asked me if I was going to miss my offspring. I said something like oh yeah, big time, already, even though K is still at home (he caught the train to Tacoma on Wednesday).
“I find it interesting  that you think you’ll miss them” she said.
“Uh…really? Why?” moiself responded. “I like them.”
“Well, you always seem to have so much else going on in your mind…”
Oh. Yeah, right. It’s not like I’ll even notice that, for the first time in over 21 years, my two groovy and much-loved children are not around.
What does she think I am, a honey badger?
* * *
MH has a sabbatical coming up, and we will be doing some traveling. Good timing, I think (hope). What with Belle & K both in college, the Dueling Banjoes of our elderly parents’ health crises , and my professional mid-life crisis, I find myself…unable to even pin down what I’m feeling. Floating, for lack of a better word.
Wise compassionate counsel from wise, compassionate friend SCM:
One of my Oregon Attorney Assistance Program newsletters talked about transitions—good or bad, they will always leave you feeling uneasy, and to give yourself time to get used to them, and to be forgiving of yourself if you feel badly (even for good changes). You’re transitioning with writing (or making some decisions about where to go next) and transitioning with parenting children to parenting adults. Those are both big life changes.
* * *
These are the breakfast plates I purchased for K and Belle, a long long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. One section for scrambled eggs and/or my special recipe whole wheat vanilla soymilk tofu (!)  pancakes, the other for fruit (bananas, seasonal berries, kiwi… they both loved kiwi).
Don’t worry about me, I’m doing fine. Just staring at empty plates. 
* * *
Something else on the plate.
C’mon out tomorrow to the Downtown Hillsboro Saturday Farmer’s Market. Hillsboro’s seasonal open-air market is celebrating its 32nd year of operation, and features over 100 vendors and their fresh local produce food and garden products, flowers, baked goods, arts and crafts, live music, and more.
As for the more: wipe the fresh blackberry (mmm, yummers) stains off your fingers and stop by Jacobsen’s books for their summer author signing series, which is held during market hours. This Saturday yours truly will be at Jacobsen’s, with The Mighty Quinn. I’ll be there from 9a – 1p, except for when I’m slipping out to one of the produce booths to sample some of the gorgeous fresh fruit, or drooling over the Pie Guy‘s wares.
The market is held on Main Street between 1st and 3rd. Jacobsen’s Books is at 211 E. Main, on the north side of the street.
Be there, or …
* * *
When I learn something new – and it happens every day – I feel a little more at home in this universe, a little more comfortable in the nest.
May you feel a little more comfortable in your nest – or fledge quickly and crap all over the nest next door, whatever floats your boat – and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
 Mostly from my mother, with the implication that it’s all downhill after this.
 The dictionary definition of interesting – “engaging or exciting and holding the attention or curiosity” – is not how my mother typically employs that word. When she uses it, it is more along the lines of the apocryphal Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.”
 One of those stealth-health things…and they loved them.
 It’s time for a lighter footnote. Pretend you’ve just read an outrageously funny fart joke.