I am sitting here waiting to run out on some errands. The boys are sleeping, the house is quiet except the piano which is being played one floor down and three rooms over. It's faint, but enough to know that this is one sound I am going to miss. The piano has been stored, and used in the garage for the past three years. It's how Emily has liked it. She likes to be in her own world of playing, worship, and practicing. If I open the garage door ever so quietly the playing stops. I embrace this about her. Her temperament her entire life. She did not want anyone watching her practice right down to helping her ride a bike. She wanted to practice in private, on her own and then show me that she could ride here bike. Of course I watched her fall and get back on that bike over 20 times through the cracks of the the window shades.
So, now that she is off to school I begin a new season of young musicians. The living room has no furniture in it. It does have a youth drum set, keyboard, and lots of noise makers. The piano will come inside and join this music room. I will once again begin to color code the keys and books, so the kids can find the notes and actually play something they can recognize. I do this before formal lessons begin, and as they learn the songs the color stickers come off and they can have the success, small as it is, to want to continue. It's painful. To listen to the instruments all playing at once, each child knowing that they have the sound and beat they want. I told myself when Elliot and Emily were young I would never ever tell them to be quiet, just let them be creative in the pounding and pray that these budding musicians would take off. They did, and my house has been filled with music, but with Emily now leaving I am at ground zero all over again. Banging and clanging.
I should count my blessings as the little boys tell me they sound just like the guys at church and they believe it, and well they know I believe them. This is the last Friday of life being as it has been for so many years. I use to count in years, then months, weeks, and now days. It's just another Friday around here. Arranging of schedules, changes, being mindful of who is doing what and keeping tabs on the coming and goings of all family members. It's not an intrusive thing, we all just like to keep informed. Emily sitting at the kitchen counter eating her apple and almond butter chatting away about the daily events of the morning, the night before and what is to come tomorrow. In five days she will be processing her life, her apples, and her music in this newest season of her life. It will be visits home and cellphones that we keep up, but no longer the day to day, often moment to moment accounting that I have been blessed to be a part of.
She is going to make new friends, some whom I may never get the chance to really know, she will be conversing on a regular basis with room mates and although I don't worry about us, as mother and daughter, my heart can still ache over her absence from the daily routines of home. My brush will always be in the same place I left it, as will my makeup and finger nail file. I may be the worlds weepiest and sappiest mother but just last night I realized that moms have emotions over their children. Even just one child. Now times that by five and well you just can't leave home without a box of tissues.
It's not just another Friday. It's the Friday before Emily leaves for college, Ethan will now be the big man at home, the oldest and the tallest. He's been looking forward to this and talking about this. His older siblings have been terrific examples to Ethan and I am looking forward to just boys around here for quite a while. I know we all will adapt as PieSweety moves into her next season, but as far as Friday's go I realize that for the first time in over ten years if I want to go to bed at 8pm on a Friday night I can. There will be no phone calls for late night coffee after The Way, or phone calls even later letting me know her whereabouts and about what time she will be home. I can rest, actually get into my jammies and know that I will not getting dressed for a late night walk, or talk. Wow, what will that be like. I guess in one week I will know.
Just another Friday...nah!!!