a hole in my gut

"Are we almost there? I guess I ought to get ready to jump out."

"Yes, we're almost at camp, and no, you can't jump out. For the first day I get to walk you in."

"Oh."

Wow. They yank your heart right out sometimes. Pook broke it with his emotional reaction to his first day of school and Bug has left a hollow spot where it used to be. Maybe I'll do better on his first day of school in two weeks having just felt like this. I'm already worrying about his first day of kindergarten-- in a year and two weeks! This year will be change enough. They'll both be gone every morning. If I don't fill my time I'll go crazy with loneliness.

Lonely? Bored? While they're both possibilities, I somehow doubt I'll have trouble filling my days. Frittering them away is more of a concern. I want to spend at least one morning committed to helping out at the elementary school and one at the YMCA. If I try to approach one house project a week, errands will fill the rest. And blogging.

I headed to the grocery after dropping off Bug at Forest Friends Camp . I eyed the enormous truck grocery carts I hate to push. It may be a year before I use one of them again. I said 'hi' to an employee. "No, no kids today. One's in school and one's in camp." I'd been answering people's questions with "Only three/two/one more week of shopping with 'company' and they'll be in school!" Suddenly I don't feel so excited. Why did I tease them about wanting them gone? I contemplate filling my hollow insides with donut holes, but resist.

I had all the groceries unpacked and put away in less time than I can shop with two kids. But for what? Laundry? I succumb to the cinnamon sticks I'd had out at last night's meeting here. (Never underestimate the power of butter and sugar.)