Linking today with Five Minute Friday hosted by Kate Motaung. Kate posts a one word prompt on her blog, then we write for five solid minutes, no editing, no filtering, no over thinking. Add your link, then leave a comment for the bloggers beside you on the list. Why not give it a try?
Truth-I've got most of that down pat except the over thinking-ha!
Hubs out of town co-worker spent the night here recently, and we started talking about summer vacations. He and his wife have two daughters just a few years younger than ours, and he asked me how I knew when a vacation was the last vacation we'd have as a family of four.
I told him I didn't. That these changes occur quietly and mostly without fanfare in real time, and it's only in hindsight we register a particular season of family life has come to a close. I thought about when it was we'd taken our last real vacation as a family of four, and was suprised to realize five years have passed. I don't remember marking it as such, but as we watched the sun sink into the ocean that day, one chapter was ending and a new one being written.
When I read today's word prompt this is where my mind traveled. I hear the word sing and realize it's one more thing that was there and now it's not. I didn't note it at the time, but I note it now.
I think of my Daughter2 and the lovely sweetness of her singing voice. She sang in choirs and school programs and even a talent show in high school, but what I remember is the small mighty lover of life, a wee one lying in her great big bed, singing herself to sleep.
I remember the long legged teenager going in to our computer room after dinner and singing to her heart's content. The Phantom of the Opera was one of her favorites and the door would be ajar. Hubs and I might be talking in the family room beside the office and we'd have to say, 'close the door, we can't hear ourselves talk.' And then we'd smile because how could you not?
I remember the exhausted college student coming home for breaks, heading straight for her piano. How she'd play and sing and leave all the stress of a semester right there in the sunroom. I would bring my cup of tea and sit on the sofa to listen, but also to marvel at the notion of a full grown adult child in my house and heart.
It occurred to me recently that in this season of an empty nest the voices of my children are what I miss the most. Like the last vacation, the last first day of school, the last lunch packed, a daughter singing while I make dinner was something that happened until it didn't.
My husband mentioned it recently, how he missed hearing her sing, our soundtrack to the everyday business of growing up girls, so I asked my daughter if she still sings. She reminded me she sings with her church worship team, but I meant, 'Do you ever take your music into the bathroom while you're getting ready and sing to yourself there?'
She said, 'Oh yes, I still love to sing'.
And just like that my heart felt lighter.