January Exhale

Musings Neither Here Nor There

January arrived with its usual mixed bag of relief, a bit of dread, and a little low key anxiety sprinkled on top. Here in the Extravagant Seaside, 2026 also rolled in with a perpetual drizzle that surely my son had dragged along with him from Seattle. A few bursts of sun over the holiday weeks felt intrusive, reminding me that with sunshine brings productivity and peppiness that I wasn’t ready for yet. I wanted the excuse of gloom so I could sit and read my books and finish Pluribus on wet weekend days. Productivity runs December. Let us rest.

If you don’t believe you don’t receive

An early foggy January morning found me driving my son to LAX so he could get back to his college life. It felt strange that he was leaving; like a ghost had come to haunt then jarringly left with no explanation. I dropped him off with a hug, extra tight, and arrived back to my still darkened, sleepy house. I stood by the door, letting the wave of empty silence wash over me. I had a nice little cry, then made some coffee and watched a movie until the sun tried to light the gray sky.

Moody Skies

Now my quartet a trio again and I remember to set three plates instead of four. As a half empty nester, I think there is one thing that perhaps a mom can look forward to once the coop is flown: Girl Dinners. I am tired of dinner. Aren’t you tired of dinner? Do we have to do it every night? Amongst the unsung heroes I stand with those who have been assaulted for decades with every dietary decision required to feed a small group of humans. Let us surrender. Let us eat popcorn. But still, it feels a bit lonely to have that seat empty again. Dinner is a chore but it is also a privilege. A privilege to have nourishment; a privilege to sit together each night. I know I’ve erred in motherhood in many ways but I think I’ve always done dinner right.

It’s strange how the busyness of motherhood slowly evaporates. Playdates dwindle. Practices dry up. Carpools replaced by licensed drivers. Motherhood becomes something new again and again. I’m 45 years old and it feels like a strange age at a strange time; like I’m sitting in a space of neither here nor there, as if I’m 25 again at the beginning of something I don’t know anything about. Back then, it was motherhood. And now….I’m not quite sure what it is. It feels kinda scary, kinda exhilarating. Once my daughter graduates high school next year, the plan is to relocate-hopefully nestle in the mountains somewhere. I’m terrified to leave what I know but I also can’t wait to free myself from the shackles of divorce, of co-parenting. We did the best we could do, sometimes great, sometimes not. But for years, I’ve lived here for all of them and I can’t help but wonder who I’ll be once I exit this Extravagant Seaside. My greatest wish is that wherever I land, my kids will always be excited to visit me, maybe even stay awhile. Or forever.

Smile lines be growing at 45

The days have turned bright and blue and every peak of every mountain clear and crisp after the rains washed the smut away. The sunsets tap dance in the sky, dusk in January always a feast for the eyes. I like to stroll with my dog in the cool, early evening, appreciating each minute longer of daylight we have earned. The sunny days have lifted my spirits; a vitamin D blast to the soul. Here I am, neither here nor there, and if I know one thing to be true….

…..it’s that I have to go make dinner.