There was no outside news for me today. There did not need to be. My son leaves tomorrow to fly back to Tucson and I hate that. As always, I spent the day pretending the impending departure doesn't matter, not wanting to spoil the day and as always, by the end of the day, I have become dark and resentful while trying not to let it show.
I have no insight, no creativity and no humour to make this any better. I have never gotten even passable at dealing with this and it does not seem that I ever will. Tomorrow I will put The Kid on a plane, he will fly off and I will head to my office to resume my regular routine. Yes, he will be back in a month. I don't care, I hate it that he is not here, I hate the distance, the literal miles, that are between us.
I want to turn and raise my hands in supplication that this not be true. If he looked back and saw me, he would ask "What's with the hands, Dad?"
I profess the desire to be able to see things exactly as they really are. I seem to want this ability, this clarity of perception, right up until I have to look at a thing which, exactly as it is, causes me intense grief. Then I don't want to see it so clearly after all.
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