by KATHY MEXTED
Mother’s Day came with mixed emotions. Breakfast in bed followed by lunch with friends and then delivering my husband to the airport.
He has left for Japan and we won’t be with him again until January. You see, my husband has had to travel ahead of us and undertake a very long training course in Tokyo.
Big ploppy tears prevented me from saying a proper farewell. It was more of a wave and a sniff, as I shushed the kids back into the car before heading off to Mr 17s boarding school.
Appropriately it was raining and cold and as my L Plater son hopped into the driver’s seat and inquired about my mental wellbeing. I was touched by his concern but a bit embarrassed. “Drive on L-Plater,” I quipped. “And watch out for that taxi.”
On Monday I took the little ones to the dentist. We came home with some soap and a new tele. “Is that all it takes to replace me?” my husband asked from his hotel room in Tokyo. ”Mmm. Yup,” we all replied together.
By Tuesday however, I was walking around the house trying to bring it alive again. We three couldn’t hope to fill the big boots that had just departed. The slow realization that he wasn’t coming back began on that morning.
As I moved through the house, initial feelings of abandonment were nudged by a tiny compensatory sense of liberation.
The home office was mine. All mine. All I had to do next was to pack up his mess.