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Of course it will; I know I can't stop time. Every visit to my parents' place makes me more painfully aware of that fact.
This particular visit has been mixed. For a change, the restaurant was closed and I didn't have to spend a good portion of my "vacation" tending bar or busing tables. Since we could only manage a five-day visit (two days of which had to be spent driving), that's kind of a good thing. We've had time to sit down and have meals together, or to play bananagrams, or to make doughnuts with the kids.
The kids have mostly been good, except when they haven't, but I love my sister so much for sticking up for them and reminding me that all of our kids have had their moments. We had a really enjoyable visit to her house this afternoon.
Tomorrow -- or later this morning, actually -- we have to load up the car and start the long drive home. It seems too soon, and at the same time not soon enough. I'm frustrated with how disconnected I am from my family, living so far away, but annoyed when I visit because the truth is that the idea of family is so much more pleasant than the reality. I spend most of the year convinced that I'm missing something wonderful, and two major holidays stressed out and disillusioned and somewhat ironically in need of a vacation.
The worst of it right now is the whole getting older thing. It's been creeping up all along of course, but somehow suddenly became more noticeable this year. Dad had to be hospitalized twice (although he's doing somewhat better now), my aunt-slash-godmother suffered a massive heart attack and had to move to a nursing home, and my mom's knee started giving her constant pain. My great-uncle died, my grandfather nearly died, and my younger sister is 18 months away from an empty nest.
Suddenly I feel like I've been kidding myself. 40 isn't the new 30. 40 is 40, and just because my kids are little doesn't excuse me from the demographic of people who are finding themselves caring for elderly parents or in some cases dropping dead themselves. I feel like I've spent too much time acting as if there will always be time, when the truth is there won't. I didn't think to take a photo of the kids with my godmother when we visited her in April; now I don't know if they'll ever see her again. I didn't call her on her birthday; now she can't speak.
Another year over. A new one just begun.
Something has to change. Better late than never.
This particular visit has been mixed. For a change, the restaurant was closed and I didn't have to spend a good portion of my "vacation" tending bar or busing tables. Since we could only manage a five-day visit (two days of which had to be spent driving), that's kind of a good thing. We've had time to sit down and have meals together, or to play bananagrams, or to make doughnuts with the kids.
The kids have mostly been good, except when they haven't, but I love my sister so much for sticking up for them and reminding me that all of our kids have had their moments. We had a really enjoyable visit to her house this afternoon.
Tomorrow -- or later this morning, actually -- we have to load up the car and start the long drive home. It seems too soon, and at the same time not soon enough. I'm frustrated with how disconnected I am from my family, living so far away, but annoyed when I visit because the truth is that the idea of family is so much more pleasant than the reality. I spend most of the year convinced that I'm missing something wonderful, and two major holidays stressed out and disillusioned and somewhat ironically in need of a vacation.
The worst of it right now is the whole getting older thing. It's been creeping up all along of course, but somehow suddenly became more noticeable this year. Dad had to be hospitalized twice (although he's doing somewhat better now), my aunt-slash-godmother suffered a massive heart attack and had to move to a nursing home, and my mom's knee started giving her constant pain. My great-uncle died, my grandfather nearly died, and my younger sister is 18 months away from an empty nest.
Suddenly I feel like I've been kidding myself. 40 isn't the new 30. 40 is 40, and just because my kids are little doesn't excuse me from the demographic of people who are finding themselves caring for elderly parents or in some cases dropping dead themselves. I feel like I've spent too much time acting as if there will always be time, when the truth is there won't. I didn't think to take a photo of the kids with my godmother when we visited her in April; now I don't know if they'll ever see her again. I didn't call her on her birthday; now she can't speak.
Another year over. A new one just begun.
Something has to change. Better late than never.
