The Sounds

I was aware of sounds this weekend. Or lack of them.

When I visited my friend’s home on Friday night and her three kids came to the door happily and excited and like three little puppies. Question after question, story after story for us, show and tell, magic tricks. So much life in the house. So much good noise. So many memories of our home and how it used to be. I used to think that noise annoyed me, the sounds of laughter. I realize in retrospect I loved this part of my life (the benefit and irony of retrospect)

And then the sounds of our home and cottage this weekend. Beauty is in London on her own which is strange in and of itself. We feel her absence –having two kids is very different than having three kids. We feel her gone.

And then the sounds of teenagers. When home so much more silence. The click click of texting, the silence of IPad, using the basement more, interacting less.

Radio Silence.

 And then the sounds of fear. We stayed at the cottage overnight the two of us without the kids as Beauty away and boys Halloween plans and also some work being done here with plumbing. But our night was not peaceful until Chase got home in the city at 2am and called us to say safe at home e (we set our alarm for his time expected home and if the alarm rings before he calls big panic and trouble which has thankfully never happened)

He is safe, responsible, and mature. It has nothing to do with him, but until I get that call my heart races and I panic and can’t think of anything else until he is in that door. Midnight to 2am trust me I don’t sleep soundly...usually not at all. With him driving now and out much later at almost 18 yrs old, this is our new reality. And our new reality is not that relaxing.

I hear the sound of my nagging voice often. More and more for some reason lately. I think in their new ambivalence and inattention that are hardest for me.

I hear the sound of us as a couple. Missing them more, the silence in the house. Still loving each other but missing some major pieces that made up the fabric of our lives. The sound of trying to stay connected and connect in a new way.

The sounds of missing. I  miss when we are all together the ease we always had as a family-we still have it often, but not as often. We have to rely much more on the in between moments. We have to deliberately make those happen more. I miss I miss I miss what I always had and still have but like Hubby and Mom said last night it’s like this trip with Beauty is the beginning of them all flying away from the nest. Or youngest in London? Without us? How did that happen? Finally no more baby talk. It’s gone.

The sound of my thoughts. They have lost some peace. They are searching-searching again. But for what? Having to re-create myself again both personally and professionally. Is there ever stability?

The sounds of the dog that we kept last weekend. The one we debate in our imaginations in our home in the future. The animal to love us, comfort us, make noise. The dog to hold us back, for us to resent, getting in the way of the next stage. I hear the barking and it annoys me. I don’t hear the barking and the silence depresses me.

The sounds of the future. The future scares me. Did we make the right choices? Is this the right cottage? The right ski hill? The right path? Should they have played hockey? Should we have socialized more? The sounds of a mothers’ self-confidence being doubted.

The sounds of loss and broken hearts. Emptiness and sadness. First loves. The breaking of teenage hearts. The sounds the family share. Of betrayal. The lessons of living being taught. But not my us.

The sounds of acceptance and moving to another stage. I had read in a book somewhere that really having teenagers starts  when your youngest becomes one. For us that was felt about 6 months ago. We are there. We have arrived.

I need more sounds. I need to create them. I need to make them mine. Ours. We need to adapt, and adjust and change.

What do the sounds of setting them free sound like?

Do they come back? What does that sound like?