(Translation: I want to go back to Utah please. Right now. Today. Bad.)
At first I thought it was just Jack. He is having a hard time making friends at school. We drop him off, and his shoulders slump, he stands on the fringes of the other students, kicks at the dirt. When the bell rings, he heaves a sigh and literally seems to drag himself in to class.
The only other new kid in his class is the kid who wears the helmet during recess. (P.S. He survived a car wreck in April, was in a coma until early August. It’s a miracle he’s back to school at all. Apparently he suffered severe brain injuries and the helmet is to protect his head from further injury. His injuries affected his balance which is why he has to wear what looks like a leash to and from school.)
Anyway, Jack says the kids in his class like to play WWF during recess. He didn’t know what that was and was feeling a little left out, so I let him watch some of it on television. He did not become a fan and can’t bring himself to want to play (slight swelling of mother’s pride).
Then he had to write a poem for school. It was autobiographical. Among his fears, (cliffs, poison, murderers) and his needs (food, family, love) he listed that he feels LONELY, smart, and happy. I talked to him about the poem and he said that he mostly feels lonely at school. Then we had a pretty sad incident in class on Friday whose details will not be published on the World Wide Interweb (I don’t want to start a smear campaign) suffice it to say he came home a very sad little boy.
Cut to: yesterday afternoon. Creed came to me in tears and presented me with the above note (yes, my son writes me lots and lots of notes). He cried and cried because he misses his cousins, his friends, his aunts and uncles and his grandparents. He was inconsolable. In his case, I think it was just a mood. Unlike Jack, there are lots of kids in the neighborhood his age, and he feels like all the kids in his class are his friends. Still, yesterday afternoon broke my heart.
And now it’s all starting to rub off on mama. I’ve been feeling quite nostalgic and homesick. This afternoon for instance. If we were back home, we’d be piling into the car to crash someone’s Sunday dinner. Aunt Kim (bar-b-que chicken with mashed potatoes, salad, fresh tomatoes, sliced fruit and dessert by Chelsea), or Linette (something delectable that Kate came up with and I got to help make if I’m lucky, then a movie in the theater room), or April (delicious pot roast, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, fried rice and whatever else happens to be in the cupboard). I didn’t mean to take Sunday afternoons for granted, but I am afraid that I spent the last ten years doing just that.
I feel like we are all in the Swamps of Sadness and if we are not careful, we’ll be letting the Sadness of the Swamp get to us. And it’s my job, as the mama, to pull us all out of it. With dad’s help as far as his schedule as an intern will allow it, which is not much.
