Monday~December 21st, 2009
I'll miss the colors of my room, he mumbled, his eyes big with sad.
What honey? I looked in the rear view mirror, trying to figure out where the sad eyes came from.
I'll...miss...the...colors of my room I SAID. He said it like he wished I would have heard him the first time so he didn't have to feel silly for missing colors.
It came out of the blue and then there was a lump in my throat like his.
Yeah, I'll miss the color of my room too, Sweetie. Maybe we could paint your new room with the same colors you have now, the giraffe colors?
He was quiet for a while and so we drove along thinking. Then he said he wanted his new room to be blue.
Yes. Fresh paint in a new color. A fresh start. That's what we have.
. . .
We've been saying far too many tearful goodbyes, and then we go home and pack up our memories and things in boxes and swallow the lump in our throats.
This is a big change.
This is a good change.
Goodbye is hard.