typewriter update

I  realized that I had not updated the wish I made for a typewriter for my birthday last May.

We looked around for the little black Royal typewriter that the company still makes, but it could only be special ordered and I couldn't see it in person.  I was a little concerned because the new typewriter was all made of plastic.

Then, I remembered something that was sitting on my bookshelf in the office among the Hemingway books.  It was a typewriter someone found for me years ago at a garage sale.  At the time I just wanted it for decoration, so I put it on the shelf and sort of forgot about it - especially after Tom propped one of his photographs in front of it and was using it as an easel.

But when I remembered it, I pulled it down and took a look.  It is a metal portable typewriter, just like I was looking for.  It was kind of grungy, but Tom cleaned it up for me and we ordered a new ribbon on-line for a few dollars and there it is!

Tom looked up the model number and found out it was made in the 1940's and this model was one of Hemingway's favorite typewriters.

Although it has a very "soft" touch, it's still difficult for these fingers who have only used electric typewriters and computer keyboards to push down hard enough to get a good strike.  But I use it for what I had originally thought I would do, type an occasional poem that I want to look old-fashioned and aged.

Slow writing is a great thing.

Family First

Sloan, heading off for her last year of college

I talked with my daughter, Sloan, yesterday and we discussed my feelings about her moving away. This wasn't new to her, but perhaps she didn't quite know how deeply I felt.

She told me that she would always keep in mind the idea of returning home and she wouldn't put herself in a situation where that simply wasn't an option.

That made me feel much better, but so did acknowledging to myself that I had the right to feel the way I do.

I talk to other women and it seems that everyone has some story about how their children moved away and they were just fine with it because, of course, they "only wanted them to be happy." They imply that I don't want that for her and, because my other two children live nearby, I should somehow be satisfied and stop whining about missing the third one.

Nope. Doesn't work that way with me.

There are many things I love and appreciate in this life, but my family is the only thing about which I am passionate.  I worked very hard; emotionally, financially and physically, to pull this little family of ours together and will continue to work at it until the day I die.  If I lost every other friend in this world, as long as I had my family, I would be just fine. They are the people I most want to spend time with. It is "us against the world."

So, I give myself permission to feel like this. I give myself permission to miss my daughter, dote on my grandchildren, prefer the company of my husband, and put all of them above and before anything else in my life.

Now, I feel happier.

Lost?

Sloan

On August 2 we moved our beautiful daughter to North Carolina where she had taken a job as a special education teacher.

It has been two full months now and during that time I have kept myself extremely busy and tried very hard not to think about it too much. But, last night I was driving home from my writing group with a dear friend, Judy, who is kind and spiritual and understanding and I began telling her a few things.

I haven't wanted to talk about it, and I certainly haven't wanted to write about it. It just felt like, if I let down my guard, it would be like opening a vein and the hemorrhaging would begin.

I know that lots of people's children move away and they cope just fine and I should just grow up and stop being so dramatic about it.  But the fact is, I'm not like a lot of other people and,  although I'm not really a dramatic person, I have very deep feelings when it comes to my family.

For one thing, our family doesn't move away. They just don't. Grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins - alive or dead - they are all still here in Michigan. Why does it have to be my daughter who decides she must leave?

I have an acquaintance who constantly complains about how her daughters are scattered all over the country and I always think to myself "Good Lord! If you were my mother, I'd move as far away as I could get too!"  Is this my punishment for thinking such unkind thoughts?

Now that my mother has passed away, I am surrounded by males: husband, sons, grandsons, brothers. I have two daughters-in-law, but they are busy with their work and families and they have their own mothers to dote on. I feel like I have no "soft place to fall."

I wanted a daughter so badly when Sloan was born and I delighted in raising her, but always felt it wasn't enough time. I am greedy for more. I was looking forward to relating to her as an adult, and certainly I know that I can do that to some degree even though she's far away. But there will be no casual drop-ins, no last minute lunches, no shopping trips just for fun. And when she has a family, I won't be the grandma the kids want to spend time with.

I know she felt she needed to find her own way in the world, and I was determined that I would not be the one to clip her wings. But, time is on her side and it's not on mine. I'm afraid that I will never again be able to spend any significant amount of time with her, that our visits together will be superficial at best, and time constricted at worst.

My heart hurts and I feel I have lost something irreplaceable. And this is why I haven't been able to write about it. For now I'll put on a tourniquet and think about it later when I'm stronger.
    

Time - the Speed Racer

Coach Max holding Weston at the soccer game

The other day I was babysitting two of my grandsons, Nolan (3 years) and Weston (8 months), who are my #2 son's children, when my oldest son, Caleb,  stopped by with his baby, Huxley (5 months). Max came to get the boys a short time later and I was in the unusual position of sitting there watching my "baby boys" sitting on the floor and playing with their baby boys.

This picture is of Max holding Weston while he coaches Nolan's soccer team. Tom used to do that identical thing with Max himself - hold him while he ran up and down the sidelines coaching Caleb's team. Sometimes when I cuddle one of the babies I find myself thinking that I was doing the same to my own babies only a couple of weeks ago ..... wasn't it?  But, when reality hits I know that, since the kids are 33, 27 and 23, it's been a bit longer than that.

I have reached an age when time has collapsed in on itself and is in a race to speed along much faster than I can stop and pay attention to it. It's really kind of scary and I look for the emergency brake handle to pull so it will slow down - but there is no brake to be had.