It's quiet. Too quiet. So quiet I can hear incoming emails ping in my office upstairs while hooking up my I.V. to the coffee maker. No sleepyheads slowly rising, soft footsteps creaking the stairs. No one leaning their elbows on the back of my chair while I check emails, rocking me backward, asking what we're doing today. No one riding their bikes alongside on my run, stopping abruptly to rescue misguided caterpillars and placing them back in the safety of the grass.
Yep, they're back at school. I miss them like you would not believe, but we were all ready. I think.
August was exciting and exhausting. 3 gorgeous Charlottesville weddings. 3 fun editorial shoots (2 covers, I still can't believe it). A trip to the beach featuring the most astoundingly perfect weather of the year. Front row at Bruce Springsteen, my ten year old mocking me when I told him I was so close I touched Bruce ("oooooh" he said, all faux googly-eyed with jazz hands a dazzling). He is so grounded. Then Michael Phelps. Usain Bolt. Jumping out of bed every night to stand 2 feet from the TV screaming, hopping up and down, urging ______ (enter Olympian's name here) to "COME ON!". Restless sleep as a result of adrenaline overload at those crazy hours.
And one wicked roller coaster that literally suspended us at the top, not enjoying the view on the horizon, but SIX long seconds, paused, looking at the ground, stadium seating only three rows deep because they wanted you to see how it would all go down. Yes, just over the crest. Six seconds. Looking at your shoes dangling and the pavement beyond. Props to the masochist who came up with that one. Seriously, what was his childhood like? The ride was insane, but easily the best coaster I've been on in years.
So now, just getting caught up. Completing the summer's weddings. Returning calls. Meeting lovely brides for next year. Booking editorial shoots. Navigating this Facebook thing, late to the table but learning. Oh, and homework. They already started homework. No rest for the weary.
5 more hours until they come home. I wonder what they're doing? Sigh.
No, she does not drink Diet Coke, she was carrying it for me. Sheesh! My husband even asked if it was my beer. Riiiight!