Freedom 45

Being away from my children has gotten easier over the years and I guess I won't lie, it is often a great gift.  Ahhh the silver lining of divorce.  Every other weekend I have about 45 hours without making the constant food prep, directing recreational needs, being ringmaster of disputes, listening attentively to all those facts about space that I have almost memorized myself after having taught it and now having 2 of my 3 working through this fascinating topic.  Did you know that the sun is only a medium sized star?  It is just that it is so
close to us compared to the others...

I suddenly have choices about where to go and what time to do anything!  There are times when I sit in amazement in a coffee shop, notebook in my lap creating the tales of all the characters buzzing in and out, that I remember that not a soul in this world knows where I am at this very moment.  Not a friend or a sibling or a parent or my children.  I shiver of fear can spill over me and I wonder if I should let someone know.  I wonder if something were to happen to me how anyone would know who to contact.  I shake the uneasiness and choose instead to breathe in the freedom.  The purest freedom I can feel.  It settles into me and fills me with promises.  What it cannot promise is to last very long and I fight the urge to count hours.  I find myself pondering how much of my precious feedom do I give to the coffee shop?  How much should I use to be productively shoveling out kids rooms, should I find a friend to share dinner and laughs with?

Once upon a freedom 45 I did not speak the entire time. It wasn't planned, but then it did lead to a challenge within myself.  I spent time in the coffee shop and at home cleaning out my daughters' room for the arrival of bunkbeds. I went running and did a little shopping, but I never spoke.  I thought of my mother often with her pleading voice of my childhood, "Carolee!  Would you please just stop talking for 5 minutes!?"  HA!  I did it...finally.  And not 5 minutes, 2700 minutes!  Unlikely she would even believe that.  Of course with chat and text it is not like I didn't communicate with anyone.  I simply did not utilize vocals.

When my Freedom 45 comes to an end, there is always a bit of sadness in me.  Suddenly I will be responsible for others and their, at times, overwhelming needs.  I sometimes wish I had used my time otherwise.  More time with friends or less time cleaning or more time cleaning and less time at the coffee shop.  Whatever the gripe, the last hour slips by.  And at its end come three enormous smiles attached to gripping hugs and sloppy kisses.  My heart races.  They look taller, they look like something is new about them, they look beautiful.  They are filled with stories and have to work hard to take turns with my ear.  Lately, in his ever maturing way, my son takes a few moments to ask me what I did and how my time was.  I want to cry.  When did he become so big?