Growing Season

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There are four cars in the driveway now — if I get too close to the edge as I pull in, my tires inevitably slip off and sink deeply into the mud. The slimy ruts fill with water.
Action item:
• Haul in stone to extend driveway.

The grass is greening and the birds have grown loud, as they always do in the Spring.
As I look out the window of the hearth room, I catch a glimpse of a bluebird darting in to build it’s nest in the box on the back porch.

I scan the changing landscape and wonder when it will be dry enough to till.
Never it seems.
Spring always comes in with a soaking that lasts for weeks.
We’ll have to watch for the one weekend that comes — there’s only one.
On that weekend, the ground will be dry enough to till.
Miss it and lose.
Of course, last year, and the year before, and the one before that, and so on,
we were watching soccer games on that one dry weekend.
Hm. Not this year.
No spring soccer for the boy.

I dig into the cold dirt in one of my garden boxes- it’s full of worms, and I smile.
There is a constant rhythm — I believe I hear the beat.
It’s time for another growing season.

Time for my son to graduate.

One day soon, he will leave and take his contagious laughter with him.
He will pack up his crazy shrieks and silly songs and the kisses he plants on the top of my head.
Gone will be the thud of his giant, plodding feet.
My cupboards will no longer suffer the wrath of his vacuum powered appetite.

The halls will grow quiet and hollow with the lack of him.

It’s Saturday and he’s in Nicaragua. He will return and bring with him the final countdown.
And while he’s not leaving immediately, it seems the whole world is about to change.

But for today, it’s time to plant seeds,
for in spite of the mud and the muck, and the fact that I can’t till —
the ground is warming and it’s time for another growing season.
The grass is greening and the birds are growing louder,
and the ruts along my driveway are full of water.

24 thoughts on “Growing Season”

  2. I just took my son off to stay with my husband”s family for a week or two. I’m missing him dreadfully. He’s only 11months old, and your son is a lot bigger, but a child is always going to be a baby to his Mama.

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    • Oh- I imagine you are missing him! I remember that when the babies were small, I could think of little else, even when I tried. Yes, he will always be your baby. Wait until he opens doors for you and looks down to kiss you on the head… Lots of love in the years ahead ❤

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      • I’m beginning to see that. I’m so used to his little body, so now he’s not here, the bed feels empty. And my husband’s here. I tried to tell him, to share the feeling, he just looked at me and said “enjoy your free week!”

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      • Yes, that’s very hard, because your husband can’t possibly understand the symbiotic relationship that exists between you and your child… But while your child is away, try to do as your husband says, and see it as a gift… a time to write, a time to reflect, a time to plan, and a time to love your husband. Believe me, I have struggled- and truthfully, I have never had a “free week” until now… but I hope to provide that safety and freedom for my daughter or son as they raise their children. I always had my dates with my husband late at night after the kids were in bed. Now is your chance, dance, love, dream… and when your baby gets home, love him better than ever ❤

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      • I feel like I’ve been hugged. If I could like your last comment more than once, I would. Thank you VERY much! I’m sure you’re an awesome mum.

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  4. I like how you placed your words. Love the knowing that a graduating child is just more growing. I have been here with two so far and you placed me there again, reminding me it will be okay and it will remain ever growing.

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    • Thank you… I know all the things that people tell me — that there is a more — that motherhood never really ends, and that I will enjoy the next chapter immensely. In some ways, I am experiencing that long lost freedom that my friends tell me is so wonderful— but I am also keenly aware that there will come a day when the cherished sounds that fill my house will become faint echoes in my empty halls. That when my son leaves, he will take his thunderous joy with him. Yet… just as spring comes every year- we have to enter each new season. Motherhood is not for weaklings. Thank you for your comment ❤

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