Eight Days

 In eight days I am going to get my son off to school just like it's a normal day, and then get in my car to drive to Maine.

It will take me approximately six hours to drive to Blue Hill, where I will be spending three nights in a very cozy Air BnB. This is all so that I can visit with my Dad for two days. It is the first time in twenty years that we have seen each other.

We have been speaking on the phone about once a week for roughly three weeks now? Maybe four?? And what started out as being a bit surreal and heavily emotional has slowly eased into something more closely resembling normal anticipation of seeing one another again.

It will be a bittersweet reunion as his health is failing and we are both lamenting the loss of twenty years due to a series of misunderstandings and miscommunications. Even as I harbor a certain degree of guilt that at least I am being granted this opportunity of a second chance and the ability to reconnect before we have to say good-bye for good.

I have started to sift through pictures, deciding which ones to bring with me that will best represent what my life has been like with my husband and our two boys. There are of course too many gaps to entirely fill, but I will do my best.


On the flip side of my excitement is an undercurrent of anxiety. Because there will be questions asked, on both sides. Some of which I will have to answer, and others I will have to choose if I am willing to answer. Reminding myself that I am an adult with a house and family of my own now. I have my own car and my own money and I can get in my car and drive away if I need to. I won't of course, but just knowing that I can helps to ground me a little more and remember that I am 53 and not 5, or 10, or 19.

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