Wednesday, September 1, 2010

30 Days

It sounded good in theory, months ago when we planned it. It all made perfect sense, was logical. The plan was well thought out, with sound reasoning behind it.

I blame Mini-Fantabulous. She truly is a Mini-Me. She is stubborn beyond belief, always willing to argue, surprisingly resistant to common sense. Soon after she arrived in Korea, she arrived at her singular purpose in life: To attend 7th grade at the local middle school back in RainyTown.

She spent months campaigning, debating, rationalizing. Her perseverance and diligence was remarkable. She wore us down. We relented. Fine! She could go back to that school, in that rainy town. So we made the arrangements.

While on vacation we bought the kids one way tickets home, early enough that they could have a week to recover from jet-lag, buy supplies and new school clothes and be there for when school starts. We would follow them in October, when our contract was finished. It seemed reasonable.

A few days before their intended departure it stopped sounding like, "Wow! A month with no kids!" And more like, "OH MY GOD MY BABIES ARE FLYING OFF INTO INTERNATIONAL AIRSPACE WITHOUT ME!"

The more they packed the lonelier the house got. They filled their suitcases, erasing all traces of their time here. A year goes by so fast when you're not really expecting it to end.

At the airport, Mr. AwesomeCool and I were beside ourselves with grief. We expressed this by starting a loud heated argument about alien registration cards. Out of the fog, Mr. AwesomeCool made a good point.

I was shocked and resurfaced to find us standing in the middle of a crowded airport shouting at each other and waving our hands menacingly in each other's faces. People were staring with worried looks on their faces as they passed by. We stopped yelling at each other and continued toward the security checks.

We stalled in front of the gate. We talked about what the first things the girls were going to do when they got back. Who they were most looking forward to seeing. We told them to remember to brush their teeth. To take care of each other. To be good girls.

When we couldn't stall any longer. They went through the gate and were gone. Mr. AwesomeCool and I lingered, staring at where they had disappeared, stunned, sure they were going to come back. Suddenly the world was a very empty, desolate place.

Now I feel like an amputee. I've lost limbs. I'm bleeding out, counting down the hours of the longest thirty days of my life.


Mr. Awesomecool said...

Day one.

Anonymous said...

I went to boarding schools when I was 14. My mom still cries ever time I leave home. I assume you'll never get over it. Sorry for the hopelessness...just saying.

Speaking of plastic chickens:

I'm seriously considering a comment strike until I get a link on your blogroll.

"Oh no he didn't"


Berly said...

I felt like that every time my son had to go to his dad's. Actually I still feel like that when he's gone and he's 19 now. God, I'm a sap.

The trick is, to find something to fill your time. I have faith in you.