That Missing Feeling

Kyle snapped this pic of me at the beach at Bradley Point in West Haven

Today I discovered that Brandi Carlile has a new album.  Her music is alternately exhilarating and devastating, and it’s the latter quality that makes me hesitate to download it.  To listen to it, even.  I thought I had licked this fear of emotional music when I boldly attended the Indigo Girls concert a few months ago, but as my cursor hovered over the play button on iTunes, I was flooded with an overwhelming feeling, which only later I can translate into words like  “NO.  STOP.  THIS WILL MAKE YOU CRY.”

Today was the kids’ first day of school.  It wasn’t really a “day” of “school” for Brady – just an hour and a half of Kindergarten orientation, which I was required to attend as well.  Still, Kyle was there until about 1pm, so Brady and I got a treat and did some errands, and then we all settled in after some simple homework and…

…had nothing to do.  I couldn’t really get any work done because I was preoccupied and distracted.  I couldn’t put my finger on the source.  That state of mind makes it impossible for me to keep one ear out for the children and my eyeballs on the computer, putting puzzle pieces of a website together for the Los Angeles masses who may or may not read it.  I had to wait until the evening, when they are in bed.  And I was tired from a long 1.5 hours of sitting on a tiny desk chair, willing myself not to cry as the teacher read a book to a class of 5 and 6 year olds that spoke of the day they were born, while my precious golden baby sat there, five years old and enormous.

Since we returned to Los Angeles on Sunday I’ve been a nonstop blur of motion and activity and planning and on-the-ledge, margarita-requiring anxiety in advance of The First Day of School and the absence of enough kid-free time to feel like I’m in control of my workload.  And suddenly, after school today, nothing was required of me and I simply deflated like a sad balloon.  And it hit me.

I was homesick.  I am homesick.

And because of that same thing that makes me not buy more of the music I love because I know it will make me cry, I couldn’t call any of my family members or girlfriends back east.  So I developed a stomachache, tried not to complain about it to Stewart whose answer is always “But this is your home,” and distracted myself by doing housework, fretting over the kids, and catching up on the latest book club assignment.

I wanted to call you, My People, but this will have to do instead.  After three weeks of very much togetherness, I miss you so much.  After the kids went to bed and before focusing on my work, I went through the photos of our trip, and I pulled out some random shots to share here.

Lemon Italian ice at Libby’s in Wooster Square, New Haven

Walking to the very quaint oldies concert on the green, West Haven.  This was a rare occasion when Brady let Gramma hold his hand.

Hanging out on the front porch.  Notice Gramma’s pink tips.

“He’s like Marmaduke,” said Grampa.

After Laura’s baby “sprinkle.”

I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be mad that I posted this.

Summer math lessons.

Step into my office.

Sunset over New Haven, taken from the Summit Happy Hour at East Rock Park.

Good times with old friends.

Another sunset at Bradley Point.

Finally tuckered out with Aunt Kathy

Annual shot of my mom drinking a beer during the summer.

Cousin Dominick, a very big boy, now complete with a little sister:

Lydia, the first girl grandchild

I can’t begin to tell you how hard it was to get all six eyeballs pointed at the camera

This was the only moment that made me want another baby for a nanosecond.  All of the other moments just made me want to visit again, and soon.

This picture made me a little teary.

…

And then we came back.

“I’m so happy to be home!” Brady exclaimed today.