Quiet, cold morning. Dreary weather. That’s cool; the dreariness is outside, where it can stay. Second cup of coffee, while the dogs sleep in…it’s a good Sunday morning.
Dad came home on Friday. We are all happy he is finally home, and I’m pretty sure he is glad to be sleeping in his own bed. It’s kind of bittersweet too me. I know things will never be as they once were. My folks are aging. Such as life, correct? No matter what others tell you, there is no being prepared for this chapter. Daily routines have changed. Certain givens are gone. Independence slowly crumbles. Reality sets in…along with regrets.
I could have been kinder. I could have been more present. I could have followed the rules. Yeah, right. Now all I can do is watch. What is it like for them? Are they scared? I am. My folks are an American cliché. Get married – have kids – work your ass off – save every dime so you have enough money to die. They followed all the rules. They signed up for the happily ever after. Kind of feels as if they are being cheated. I always assumed if you did what you were told, you would be rewarded. If this is prize…count me out.
I’ve always been so busy being annoyed at my parents for who they are not, instead of loving them for who they are. It was a subtle change and I’m not sure when it shifted – but it has. I’m proud of my parents. Tossing off all the misunderstood communications – dissolving selfish pettiness into thin air, all that’s left is love.