Do you hear that? It’s the sound of empty. It’s the sound of quiet. It’s the sound left behind by two kids, one teen and one tween, when they begin the new adventure of another year. High School and Middle School gain two new students today, and our house loses their constant summer-time presence.
Do you hear that? The sound of peace. The sound of no fighting. The calm of no television blaring, no video games sirening. It’s the sound of space where I can fill it with the things I choose.
And I rejoice! I rejoice that they both were excited to go. I rejoice that they are able and well. I rejoice that we live in a place where education isn’t just a possibility, it’s a given. I rejoice that my years of stay-at-home momming have helped get them to this new milestone. I rejoice!
And I mourn! I mourn that another year has started and will, too soon, have slipped away. I mourn that this is the beginning of the end. That, like I’ve heard many times, the closer you get to the end of the roll of toilet paper, the faster it goes. It’s true in life too. So I mourn. Four short years with one, seven with another. More than half-way there. I mourn that my hourglass of time with them here at home is half over. I mourn the quiet. I mourn the ache that I feel as the distance of days spent at school and evenings spent at activities create. I mourn!
Do you hear that? It’s the sound of a mama’s heart breaking. Breaking open with pride and joy for the accomplishments and potential of her children. Bursting apart with anticipation at all they will do and learn and be. It’s also the sound of that same mama’s heart splintering into a thousand little pieces with the weight of her short time left with them. Cracking at the sound of the quiet they leave behind.
Do you hear it too?