harder than I thought
For a long time I had planned to make myself a study/office/guest room in Jon's old room. This required sorting out the treasures, painting, re-arranging, etc., while still leaving it hospitable for those rare occasions when he's home. For some reason (laziness above all, but something beyond that) I have avoided this task, even when there's been time in the day to work on it. Finally, there was no excuse. Not only did I have some fallow time, but the school/financial and personal paperwork had risen to flood levels around the house. So, I made a plan, picked out some put-it-together-yourself furniture, and began. But it's very, very hard to sort through and box up the things of Jon's that are in that room. I asked him if he wanted things, but he, too, is trying to thin down his possessions. Nonetheless, treasures of a lifetime can't be thrown away willy-nilly. They must be sorted, considered, organized, and--if they merit it--re-settled elsewhere. Today, in between some work I had to do for Joe, I sat in that room, awash in sentimentality. Feelings have arisen, unbidden, mostly happy, but a few bittersweet. My sense of loss that he was gone to Buxton for the last two years of high school was suddenly irreparable. As wonderful as it was, it wasn't home, and for that there is no cure. And saddest of all is that he really doesn't need that to be his room any more. When he does come, he comes as a brief guest. This is good, I know, but it doesn't make it easier.
In any case, I plan to make the room so inviting that he'll want to stay there, as will I. This, then, is a plan!
In any case, I plan to make the room so inviting that he'll want to stay there, as will I. This, then, is a plan!