I dreamed of my middle school house again. In this dream, as usual, it was the house and not quite the house. We were assessing it for some DIY repairs, some renovation. Lush green plants grew down out of the ceiling – a “living roof” in reverse. A stunning spiral chandelier made of seashells hung in the front foyer, near the steps. As I spun in place in the kitchen, it wobbled like the reflection in a fun house mirror, and I couldn’t quite get a good look at the cabinets and countertops as they shimmered just out of focus. I could only really clearly see the old 1980s royal blue paper border that wound around the top. My friend Carrie – who is not at all connected to that house or that era in any way – munched gummy candy loudly as she walked into the dining room, which had a shin-high fluffy white rabbit fur wall to wall carpet. And I said to her – Hi Carrie. This is a dream. This is the house I dream about a lot. I don’t know why. And she said – how pretty and soft. A nice dream house.
***
Jack has had a big summer, growing-up-wise. He is sixteen, a junior now. His girlfriend is a rising college freshman and she left for college early this morning. We are working through it – he is working through it. We reference the Inside Out movie a lot. Last night after he said good-bye for the last time, he told me he had cried some and he was not going to cry anymore, he was going to look to the future. And I said – it’s ok, Sadness gets her turn at the control panel sometimes. And he said “Jeez Ma, you’re gonna make me cry again” with a wry, sorrowful smile and I thought How is he so grown, my baby. My boy.
***
I’ll be forty six years old in a few days. Closer to fifty than forty. When I started this thing, I was twenty seven. I dip in and out, depending on life and work and time – but it’s not going anywhere.