No Whining…

I got up early this morning to feed the dog, and was shocked to find my son on the couch, his nose dirty and bloodied and the splint from the surgery he had 10 days ago to correct the multiple breaks, missing.  I woke him up to ask what happened, and he painfully recounted having fallen in the driveway late, and landing face first, because one hand was on the cell phone and the other holding a cigarette.  The on call doctor chuckled, said this was Murphy’s Law at its finest, and told me  to have him ice his nose and more than likely the surgery will have to be redone.  I rolled my eyes so much I got a spasm.  Parenting…

Yesterday I decided, though I’m leaving for a 10 day trip to California on Wednesday morning, to tidy up my daughter’s old bedroom, run the vacuum, and change the bed linens.  That was my first mistake.

I looked back over my old blog posts, specifically from March of 2010, when I went into the basement to clean up my son’s room while he was in boot camp with the army.  I wrote this:

“I started by cleaning the lowest level of the house, which was my son’s room in the basement.  Can I say that cleaning the room of a child who has left for the military is as difficult as it is cathartic?  Each little piece of him I held and dusted, and occasionally rolled my eyes over, and then carefully replaced it .  It was an emotional couple of hours, and I was completely ready for a big bottle of wine!”

And so yesterday, what started out as a simple task of tidying and vacuuming my daughter’s old room, ended up an emotional day of scrubbing and holding all that my daughter use to cherish.  The things she left behind.  She is not a housekeeper, and nothing had been cleaned well since she moved into that room when my son vacated it in favor of the basement, so a simple vacuuming wasn’t going to cut it.  Each little piece of her I held, and dusted and occasionally rolled my eyes over, and then carefully put it away into a drawer, because unlike my son, whom I knew would eventually return and resume residence, I know my daughter will be moving forward into a new life, and any return home will be merely a short term visit.  It was an emotional day.  And I was completely ready for a big bottle of wine.

Before Brianna left, she asked for some postage stamps.  I thought that was an unusual request, what could she want to put a stamp on?  In this age of instant communications, and electronic exchanges and social networking (OK I admit that I check her Facebook page hourly…) what could she want to do with a stamp.  I asked her and she said, “But mommy, I love getting mail, I look every day in the mail box to see if I got a letter or card and it makes my day when there is something in there for me…”

OK, I’m shocked.  Old fashion letter writing trumps 140 character text/twitter posts?  Who would have thought…

I dug out stamps and behind the stamp folder was a second similar folder, and my daughter dug it out.  She asked what was in it while she was opening it.  She found the letters my son wrote to us while he was in boot camp. She exclaimed, “Mom, you saved them!”  Of course I saved them.  You can’t know what they meant to me…

And at the end of January 2010, I posted this blog:

“So, armed with his address at Fort Jackson, I sat down yesterday and wrote an old fashioned letter.  With the date on top, followed by Dear Eric.  As I wrote, I thought about how lost the art of real letter writing has become.  I sent him a newsy two sided note, on flowery stationery, which has been in my drawer for about 12 years.  It is sort of sad, to think that the art of letter writing is dying, but in this day and age, it is the only way to stay in touch with a recruit in boot camp.  I wrote him another letter today.  It made me feel good to stick the letter in an envelope, put on a stamp, and leave it for the postman (woman in this case…)”

After cleaning out my daughter’s room yesterday, I sat down and wrote an old fashioned letter.  With the date on top, followed by Dear Brianna, I thought about how glad I am the the art of real letter writing hasn’t died, that an 18 year old college student, well versed in electronic communications, can love a simple handwritten piece of correspondence.  It made me feel good to stick the letter in an envelope, put on a stamp, and leave it for the postwoman…

And why might you ask, is this post titled No Whining?  OK, my son broke his nose yet again (he told me it was his 5th break in less than 4 years) and he will more than likely have to have surgery again, but noses heal and he will move on from this, and probably break it again at some point.  My friend’s son though, was just sent home from Afghanistan with his legs blown off, 19 years old, this child’s destiny has been permanently altered.  I cannot even begin to process what he and his family are going through.

I continued to vacuum my very dirty house today.  The vacuum broke, and I’m not sure Sears is open to go and buy a new one, since the mall flooded.  But I have a house to vacuum, dog hair to scrape off the carpets.  I have carpets.  I have my house and belongings in tact with a little dirt.  Every time I go into town, there are people wandering around glazed and heartbroken.  So many in my town and surrounding counties have lost their homes and everything in them.   The flooding in this town has been historical, and my heart breaks for everyone who lost so much in this storm.  Gas lines and foundations have been compromised, wet debris piles up on woeful mounds on the side of the streets.  Roads are closed down at the moment because the president is coming to see the destruction.  My husband was coming home from the pool supply place because the pool vacuum broke as well, and was stuck at a Dunkin’ Donuts while he watched the president drive into town, and then drive out.

So on Wednesday, barring any storm delays, I’ll be heading to California for two more workshops. I’ll be distracted and doing what I love and what I do best.  I’ll be empowering weavers to create something that comes from their hands, and for a brief time, all of this will be behind me on the east coast.  I am grateful for distractions, and for things that keep me busy and creative.

Stay tuned…