mourning the end of the old

Sometimes the words don’t come. 
Sometimes there just aren’t any for the impending very first day of school for my very last baby.
They’re stuck in my throat, and when I think about them, and what they’d sound like if I said them, my chest does something funny and my heart wriggles uncomfortably and I quickly think about other words. 
Ones about comfortable days by the pools, watching Eden learn freestyle and Amie spend more time under the water than above it because she’s learned the cool of water across her face is delicious and that she can curl her body under there in ways that just don’t work on the ground. 
Other words about a friend’s spontaneous visit, and stay for dinner are much more happy to think about. She sat and ate with my three noisy kiddos, and they asked her how long she’s been friends with their mama, and it was fun to reminisce about our high school days and tell them we’ve been friends since we were fifteen. My heart swelled happy and I forgot about the future for that little while.

And I should forget for now. Because right now we are eight, six and four.
And right now the four is too little for school and she is still my baby at home. 
Right now we are a little family, and I am still a mama with kids in tow in the grocery aisles; the one who attracts the glances of older mamas and grandmothers with their ‘I remember’ smiles. 
And it’s been tough, this nine years of babies, breastfeeding and toddlers and toilet training and being home for hours and the loneliness and the monotony. 
But there are new things on the horizon and suddenly I’m grasping for that life I lived already.
Because I lived it. past tense. 
Now Play School is never my white noise, and my house will be quiet and clean on those days without my three little people: too quiet and too clean. 
I know I can be glad that I absolutely sucked the marrow out of that big fat juicy bone of young motherhood. But the words still come out wobbly, and my throat still tightens a little.

Because it’s the season of new seasons, and I’m mourning the end of the old, and I just can’t find the right words.

xx

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