I would have titled the post "Paradox,' but then I made the mistake of Dr. Googling it and realizing that it wasn't really what I meant. Or I'm not sure that it is what I meant. And I have a real professor reading this blog, ready to ridicule me for my misuses.
No, she wouldn't. She would understand.
What I meant was I can't start wishing for winter break so Eldest is home because that's just wishing that Le Daughter is gone that much sooner. You know what I mean, right? And if you don't? Give it up. You won't ever.
It's easier now. It really is. Because it's done. And it'll be done again. And, finally, when Youngest goes, once again.
I want for that kid of mine to go forth. He will. And then she will. And, soon enough, the other he will as well. And I will pine for all that they were and all that they are and all that they will be.
I'm ready to play that doddy old woman you make a wide path around. Hell, I'm already playing her.
So how it is that I keep going forward?
I'll tell you. It's really simple.
It never was about me.
This whole thing.
It never was.
It is and always was about them.
And that is how I sleep.
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