Obviously, I'm not spending my summer vacation blogging.
It's been a quiet and fast summer so far. Quiet because both kids have been conspicuously absent. Connor's working and living with his dad, and I see him in brief blurs when he rises or descends here at home, on his way to or on his way from spending time with his girlfriend. It's as it should be, and he's happy.
Logan's been in Texas for the past month, dancing at Ballet Austin. He very occasionally checks in, I'm sure more for my sake than his. He'll be fine navigating this crazy world.
I'm reminded of when the kids were in grade school, and I'd join them for lunch. Connor would see me wander in the lunch room and his face would light up. He'd make room for me among his friends, and they'd greet me just as warmly.
When I visited Logan, he'd have a "what the hell are you doing here?" look on his face, and he'd tolerate my presence as long as it took to consume our lunch.
Both responses are just fine. And nothing's really changed that much.
Logan's approach to my presence in his life has been tempered by good manners and time, so I assume he'll be a bit more excited than he used to be when he saw me in the lunch room in elementary school. I'll be wandering into his current lunch room when I find my way to Austin a week from today. I'm leaving next week to pick him up from his 6-week ballet intensive.
And, like most of life, I'd like to think it's about the journey; not the destination. I'll be traveling in my crappity POS car down to Austin in the midst of a hot summer with my friend Erin, and I'm determined to have a great time along the way.
Erin, like most of the people with whom I surround myself, is fascinating. She's simple, and she's complicated. And I can't quite figure her out. That seems to be the common denominator that weaves through the pattern of people I tend to retain. I just don't get them entirely.
I've known Erin for a dozen or so years. If I ask Erin what she did today, her answer would be banal and rote; the kinds of answer most of us would give.
So I've learned to not ask that question.
I ask Erin about concepts. About ideas. About ways people are. And then I listen, and we chat, and it's usually completely compelling to hear what she has to say, to hear our conversation evolve.
She's hard to pin down. And I was completely shocked when I mentioned I needed a traveling companion to go to Austin to pick up Logan. And Erin said she'd go with me. Oddly, her answer came as easily as if I were asking her if she wanted to go to the grocery store with me.
Game on, I say. It doesn't hurt that Erin thinks the world of Logan. And the feeling is mutual. Logan loves Erin. He's said more than once that she's his favorite among my friends.
So that means our trip back might be fun. It might be more of a party and less of an "oh. My mom's here to have lunch with me (eyeroll)" experience.
I've determined that I'm going to blog about our trip to Texas.
Maybe the trip and the blogging about the trip will reinvigorate my desire to blog. I've kept my interior on the inside over the summer, and it's been nice. But I've missed this format of personal expression.
I've lost sleep, actually, wondering if my relevance is gradually deteriorating by keeping my tender thoughts on the downlow.
The world continues to spin without my supply of observations. But that's going to change next week.
I'm back, baby.
And I'm headed to Texas with Erin, with the intention of picking up Logan, and having some fun.