I think it’s partly the weather, not just the date, but Autumn is immanent. I can feel it in my joints and the sky is a pathological liar. Sun one moment, but it’s just a tease, rain the next. Gloom and gray are raucous, you hear that party arriving long before you see it. Drunk gods of thunder, deranged beasts clothed in storms; it is no party I’m interested in attending.
Summer, you were fleeting. Dangerously addictive. I miss you already. I would abandon everything to be with you again.
Today was a hard day. And I will confess, that I’m self medicating with Ghirardelli. A whole huge bar of milk chocolate. It didn’t work, so I washed it down with a glass of red wine. Not good stuff, not bad either. Just enough to dull this ache, if this ache could be dulled. I don’t think I can bear this pain alone… so sit with me for awhile, OK?
I said goodbye to the Summer Lunch program today. It is wrapping up this week, and today was my last day. I made a point of saying goodbye to my fierce boy, this child who has stolen my heart. Because he’s autistic and doesn’t really get that I’m not permanent, I needed him to know I wasn’t coming back. Not until next year. He fought the tears, and I fought them too. I told him that I believed in him. That I knew he would be OK. That I would be holding him in my thoughts forever. And that I would see him next year. Promise.
He’s had a hard summer. He’s had a hard life. He has no filter that tells him his emotions should be in check, so everything he feels is so available for you or me to see. Very available to those around him to mock and tease and taunt. He lives a life in full view; I bury mine beneath all my own scars. But I recognize it. I do. He’s just out there on the surface, throwing his head into concrete walls when frustration takes hold. The only real difference between us is that I’ve met the concept of metaphor.
“Tell me something funny,” I say. “Tell Hannah Montana a joke, buddy.”
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” he replies, running in circles, this is how I will remember him. Always running.
“I don’t know, why did the chicken cross the road?” I ask.
“To get some milk.”
We laugh. Not because it’s funny. But because it has to be funny. We are fighting the inevitability of the season, the inevitability of change. Tomorrow, I will not be there.
“Wende, why did the Chicken cross the road?” he begins again. I’m wishing it was that easy, to begin again.
But then it is time to go. Time to really say goodbye, time to pack up our program, time for one last hug. I have become jaded and not capable of being surprised by anything. Abuse and neglect. Hunger and poverty and absolute joy in the midst of it. I cannot be fazed. We pull away, our car in motion, and then he surprises even me. Banging loudly on my window, his little fists flying, flying in my direction not at yet another tormentor. Fumbling with unfamiliar car controls, I roll down the window.
“Goodbye,” he says, “I’ll miss you.” And then he begins to cry, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kiddo.” I say with as much composure as I can muster.
But I’m not mustering any composure now. I’m just slipping into Fall, holding onto a summer I won’t forget.
I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad
I got sunshine, in a bag
I’m useless,but not for long
The future is coming on
The end of summer and the program are all mixed together– the warmth of love and the grayness of fall and goodbye. You did wonderful things for this young man, Wende.
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I hope so, Margaret. I truly do. Tomorrow means turning my sights to my own young man. He’s not ready for school to start… neither am I. ~W
<3
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Back at ya, babe! ~W
Loving damaged kids is so painful but it is the only way they have ANY hope. Thank you.
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Thanks, Liza. He’s a wonder and I keeping that with me. ~W
Yes. I too, am watching the Summer slide down it’s slippery slope into Fall, where so many things get transformed once again before the death throes of Winter, and then the rebirth of Spring…so the circles turn…Ready or not, here it comes.
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It’s downright nippy here. Sweater Weather. And socks, darn it. ~W
What Liza said. Thank you.
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Thanks, Cap. Nice emailing you, with all my heretical thoughts! 😀 ~W
I can’t imagine. The whole thing breaks my heart and yet what an opportunity to build a memory and let someone know that they too are loved. I’m glad we are in a space where you can do that and I hope you do more of it. Just know that YOU were the Universe intervening in the life of someone when they needed it most – how they needed it most. You were God made manifest… or at least… Hannah Montana… for him, close enough.
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Thanks, IZ. He’s the part of my summer I’m taking with me. You know? ~W
There’s someone for everyone, maybe you’re his and maybe you have a new calling. Is there anyway you can volunteer a day or two a week in his class?
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I’ve given it over to the Universe. He is homeschooled, and it’s difficult to step into a situation like that. But, I’ve made a decision to take on more work in feeding ALL hungry kids in our area, and I have to have faith that such a choice will make a difference. ~W
Loving your fierce boy and allowing him to feel loved and to show love: You are Clint Eastwood amongst a bunch of zombie gorillas, Wende.
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Ah… a favorite of mine. And I’m impressed you knew the musical reference. 😀 ~W
Oh I’m crying with you.
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Thanks, Heather. ~W
unrelated, but i wanted to say thanks for such quick shipping on my etsy purchase!! of course i love it, and forgot to put anything about the AWESOME PACKAGING in my feedback, and my feedback “appreciation photo” is lame, but anyhow…
thanks so much. your corners are PERFECT!! i had my eye on these little acorns, too, but i’m glad i got the one i did instead, because the lavender is way more powerful than i expected it to be…haha…however, my car smells LURVELY now.
can’t wait for the balsam sachets 🙂
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AWESOME! I’m glad it got to you. You left wonderful feedback! Thank you for that. ~W
cute acorns!
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Thanks!! ~Wen
Aw, Wende. I’m late, but I’m here. xoxo
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Thanks, Mary. ~W
what an extra hard way to end the summer!
i do love those acorns.
the little man and i will be making those one day too…i just love them every time i see them in the various different places i’ve seen them over the years.
we’re ending our summer and maternity leave in the best possible way by taking advantage of the beginning of off season in cannon beach! omg. we’re thrilled. will be driving through astoria, and if i could remember to check back here i’d ask for a coffeehouse recommendation in astoria, but, you know, i probably won’t remember to come back before we leave, so, i won’t ask.
but, oh, the best thing about living at the oregon coast (in my limited experience) is just now beginning!
the best.
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Ahh… the acorns are not as you might think. They’re actually lavender sachets… and I (at least) have never seen them anywhere before!!
Astoria is riddled with lovely coffee places–You can’t go wrong! Happy Trails.
~~Wen