This winter we had a freeze-thaw cycle that was murder on the pavement, no more so than at the bit of cul de sac which abuts our front yard. Then we had a lot of precipitation. The result was a teensy sink hole at the foot of our driveway which hasn’t dried since last fall.
In July, it grew slick with algae, threatening the unwary. If we weren’t careful to sweep out the puddle, it hosted mosquito larvae.
Naturally, this offended the ToolMaster’s sensibilities.
He was considering a cement patch when a road crew arrived and began to resurface the main street one block away – tantalizingly close. But fear not! It’s amazing what can be accomplished by a savvy homeowner, particularly if they are a jovial person accompanied by a black lab and bearing two dozen donuts.
Yes, P talked them out of two wheelbarrow’s worth of hot mix. Yes, he packed that sink hole. Yes, I got hauled away from a productive writing session to play amateur steamroller.
I couldn’t feel resentful, since he’d worked so hard to make it happen. (He always works hard.) My tough job was to sit in the van in the sun, window open, while he both guided me and used the lawn roller between passes.
I drove round and round, making dark circles with the tires, thinking there had to be some kind of metaphor in the procedure, feeling too dizzy to figure it out. In the end, the ToolMaster was so pleased with the result, you’d think I’d given a different kind of performance. 😉
After, I took the van for errands, watching the tire marks follow me to the main road.
Peeps, I’ve had a bit of a circular-yet-unfamiliar route this summer. It’s the first year we took a family holiday without Molly, for she stayed home to earn money for her second year of college. Do you have any idea how much less bickering takes place in a car with one child? How much less happy chatter?
I know these rites of passage are normal and necessary, I know they are wonderful, but they’re also weird. You know?
Now begins the line out of this route into a new routine which seems to arrive without my consent, though I know it’s for the best. This fall, I’ll have a college-bound young woman in my home and a high schooler. Not sure how that happened.
If I sound sentimental, you’d be right, and that’s why I haven’t blogged as much this summer. I don’t want to make Tartitude my journal. I feel the abiding need to honor your time. It’s also frighteningly hard to pretend I’m all bouncy-bouncy when I’m really engaged in emotional processing. (These days it’s easier for me to slip into a character’s skin than into my own alter ego. I think that’s because it took me so many years to allow that authenticity.)
Lest I’m tipping into an angst-fest, here’s where I’ll remind you that last fall, Molly began college and prompted many of the same musings in one of my most popular posts on this blog. We had a marvellous year. Truly. May this post kick off another.
Now, I know I’m not the only person feeling a bittersweetness at fall’s approach and its child-related milestones. How are you doing? How are you coping?
And if you blog and are engaged in mental processing, how do you balance the desire to keep connected to your readers – your hard-won and wonderful community – yet not devolve into the overly personal?