Dropped Ken off at school this morning and as he crossed the street ahead of me, hurrying to the library to work on his report on Herodotus for his history class, I felt my heart break just as it used to do when he was a little boy heading across the schoolyard to join his friends on the playground before school.
Of course my heart broke when Oliver trundled out the door too and still does, which always makes me ask myself, When does it end?
But I know the answer.
Couple weeks ago I arranged to stop in at the old Mannion homestead on my way back here from Syracuse and spend the night visiting with Mom and Pop Mannion. I ran into snow and sleet somewhere in the void between Utica and Albany and had to slow down for a stretch, a long enough stretch that I arrived at their house about forty minutes later than I’d told them I would.
Pop Mannion was waiting in the front hall.
“Where were you?” he asked, a tremor in his voice. “I was just about to call the State Police!”
I would have apologized but I started laughing instead. I was flashing back to a very similar scene from high school when I got home at three in the morning from a movie that supposedly ended at midnight.
“Where were you?” Pop demanded. “I was just about to call the police!”
It never ends.