Letting Go. . .

Today I felt melancholy.
This watercolor print is hung in my bathroom.  Before that, many years ago it's place of honor was in my children's nursery.  I have had it since my oldest son was born.  My husband bought it for me as a present.    So much in my life has changed and I was longing for a more simpler time.  I am nostalgic by nature.  My life pretty much revolves around looking back, thinking of days gone by.  It is not that I live with regret because in all honesty I have very few regrets.  I have made many good decisions in my life and for that I am proud.
It's just the letting go that haunts me.  I have trouble letting go of sweet times, sweet memories and simpler days.  I'm often transcended in my thoughts to my youth, or the youth of my children.  I have always been that way and probably will always be.
I miss holding my sons.  You know when it was time for their naps or time to put them down for the night and everything else somehow took a second seat to that.  I miss that.  I would set aside atleast 45 minutes to rock my sons to sleep.  Holding them, looking deep into their faces as they drifted off.  Playing with their hands and feet gently enough not to wake them.  I would rock and whisper my secret wishes for them.  Sneak thirty or fourty kisses between rocking and sing to them or hum until they were sound asleep.  Even then I would hold them for more time.  It was never enough time.
I miss holding them.  I miss kissing them just because I could.  My days feel like they are rushing before my eyes and I am already dreading the day my oldest will leave home for good.  I will never be ready.
Matt will be going to college and I think to myself, how will I cope?  The silly things you do without a second thought.
Like:  Deciding to bake cookies in the mid evening to give them a treat.
     Driving them somewhere  even when your dead tired.  Sometimes Matt forgets he needed something for school, or a movie came out that he wanted to see and he will casually suggest if we could go not ever thinking I might say yes.
Complaining about so much laundry and putting away so many socks.  What will I do when I don't have any to put away?  I still smell my son's pj's in the morning and I can smell his scent.  That scent that I have gotten to know for so many years.  (I'm not talking sweaty soccer or hockey gear, I'm talking clean pjs that he wore after a shower)
I shall miss putting there toothbrushes away, and complaining about them leaving them on the sink.  I can't even begin to imagine.  Or maybe I've already begun to.
Today I felt melancholy.


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