Leaving home is never easy.  All of my readers know that.  This year, leaving Bridge Street… and my parents… was heart-breaking.  I tried the all-business approach to my packing up and sorting things (I still managed to leave one back pack behind), but beneath the surface I was again and again choking, choking in rooms by myself, while walking Max and Budster in the park across the street, on the elevator and in the parking lot.  By choking, I don’t mean crying tears.  I don’t know if you know what I mean.  It was a feeling so deep that it hurt my chest, but no sound came out and no tears were released.

When I last looked up at the balcony…Mom, cozy in her morning robe and Dad, tears in his eyes, I had to pull into my cave of a van and cry.  In my life I have been faulted for my emotions about things.  But this moment was one I will never forget, for its connection to my life…for the feeling of ‘leaving’ and the longing for connection.  I am home now and I will update my blog with a few significant happenings along the way.

I wish I could change some things.

I Looked Up At My Mom & Dad