Sometimes minor change is more significant than the big stuff. You know, the subtle things that slip in under the radar unnoticed if you aren't paying attention that indicate something important.
Having just finished a modest home renovation (I'm more Tim Allen than Bob Villa) that is built for industrial strength wear complete with a new fridge (Maytag's Moby Dick model) to finally replace the leaky old one that's been leaking all over the floor for the past year, all indicating that we are bracing for a life with 5 growing larger and messy men in it for the forseeable future. We need work space that says "cook, eat, spill" not "Martha Stewart would approve".
The second smallish but significant indicator of big change came last night after the boys got home from their 3 day visit to their other grands new house on Cape Cod, I found Doc curled up on the sofa downstairs crying his poor eyes out. He was so sad that the weekend was over and Gramma and Grandpa were gone that he couldn't contain it. I tried to console him and assured him they'd go back again for Christmas or maybe Thanksgiving and that he could always call them and so forth but it didn't help much. He was miserable. He'd had a wonderful time - they all had. They liked the new home and everyone got along and felt part of the family in a way I haven't heard them talk about for quite some time. Without more, Doc's tears had said it all.
Last Friday I drove the boys halfway to the Cape meet their grampa. I won't deny I've been angry at how long and badly things got dragged out over the 4 years that stretched out the end of Buddy's and Debbie's marriage. I felt it could have gone easier on the kids, taken a lot less time and cost a lot less money to arrive at the place we are basically at now and I laid blame all over the place which made it hard for me to talk with the other grans the past 2 years. However, it's time to move on. We need to work together so that the boys can get to their home, have a strong relationship and not have to relive any anxieties of the past. Driving them part way is as good a way to start building that bridge as any.
The past needs to become the past because, as the old saying goes, it's all water under the fridge.
