He left today. First, about 9 am, we hear the tones of Super Mario Brothers signalling his final wakeup in this house. We do a quick load up of the minivan, which fills up fast. The big stuff we'll deal with later when the pickup arrives. A few boxes into the Honda, as well as the two plants he takes with him. He is concerned about the stress that the plumosa and the bromeliad may undergo during the move to Shippensburg. I say, don't worry about it, the plants will be fine.
We went to Tosh's new house and unloaded, flashing through my own first move from my parent's home. On my go-round, a four-year-old Tosh and a twenty-one-year old me said good-bye to my parents immediately following my grandfather's funeral. While the funeral was sad, even sadder was my mother's quiet and desperate pleading - just a few more minutes Gil, please...
On that day, my excitement for beginning my new life with Tosh, on our own, completely overwhelmed any ability I may have had to empathize with my mother's sense of loss, of impending lack. In my joy, her sadness did not even touch me. Today, as Tosh leaves our home and truly begins his own adventure, I am fairly certain that my sadness and loss are safe with me. But then that is where they should be. He goes with my best wishes and all my love, my not-so-little anymore Toshie.
After I got my job offer here, I went to Shannon's house first. She was excited to see me and said, "Guess what, I have news for you!" and I said, "yes I have news for you too! you first!" and she said, "we're going to try to have another baby" and I said, "I'm moving two and a half hours away" and we both just sort of stared at one another as if to say, now why would you go and do a thing like that?
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