All right, all right, I hear you. I’m writing, I’m writing. Jeez, people.
Where to begin? So very, very much has happened this past year, both good and bad, and then this summer threw me for a loop. August was about regrouping; a solid month of reflecting, reevaluating, redirecting.
I needed to come to terms with my first baby going off to college, and my worries about him being alright in his new world. Would he be happy? What if he wasn’t? What about the empty space he’s left?
I needed to understand that I will never completely understand the romantic relationship I left behind earlier this year. At the time the relationship was ending, Karen commented that people expect of others what they, themselves, are capable of. She wasn’t referring to me, but I applied her words to myself. I suppose I’ve naively lived under the assumption that we’re all trying to be good; trying to love well, with honesty and kindness. When people intentionally hurt others, my first reaction is to assume they didn’t mean to; surely, if they knew something was hurtful, they wouldn’t do it? Sometimes, it seems, they mean to be mean. Sometimes they are mean because they can be, and I will never understand that. I’ve become a tiny bit cynical, and I think that’s a good thing. Suddenly, I find myself with new walls, and it seems natural to expect others to earn their way in.
I’ve been worried sick about Matt going into middle school. Given his temperament, will he be alright? The middle school grades are kept separate for a reason: humans of that age are insane. Remember the movie, “Escape From New York?” It was originally to be titled “Escape From Middle School,” and the plane of the fictional President of the United States would crash onto an island of middle schoolers, necessitating rescue by Kurt Russell. The producers had to rewrite the script after parents complained, saying they’d never get their kids to go to middle school if they knew what it was really like. I’ve been worried that middle school might not bring out the best in Matt.
And then, you know, the other thing. At the time, it felt horrible. In retrospect? It was really horrible. This, like the romantic relationship, caused me to question so many things. Were there red flags? How did I not know what this person was capable of? How did I miss that?
Now that I write it all out for you, I realize August was not only about regrouping, but worrying. I needed a lot of time to worry. A whole month.
But, this evening is the start of Rosh Hashanah, a time to reflect upon the past year, and prepare for the new. What perfect timing.
Tashlikh, Rosh Hashanah’s symbolic casting off the year’s sins by taking small pieces of bread from your pockets and tossing them into a stream or river, is done tomorrow afternoon. After a day of reflecting, my little Jewish/Catholic household will make its way to the creek and toss away the old, readying ourselves for the new.
But thank you, all who have written/nagged/nudged. It’s lovely to know my voice and work were missed, and I appreciate how you took the time to tell me so. You rock.
L’shanah tovah! For a good year!