That hollow, lonely feeling has plagued me for a lifetime to varying degrees. The worst case happens when "my kids" leave after a summer or full-year exchange. It takes me a few days to get out of my funk. When I left Felix at the airport, that empty feeling invaded me. As I turned the car into the driveway at 728 Prospect Avenue, I had to take a deep breath. The next day I climbed Whitecap Mountain at a fast pace and ran down. In the evening, exhausted, I could barely keep my eyes opened watching the Red Sox. In the back hallway, Bailey had collapsed, too. His feet back peddled and little yelps sounded: I like to think in his puppy dreams that once again he chased the boys across the lawn with the soccer ball.
|Thursday morning, June 25, 2015|
Now, it's time to work in earnest on the second edition of A Guide to Creating Student-Staffed Writing Centers, a book published in 2006. I'm also teaching a couple of classes and trying to keep on the mountain paths. I even bought a new weight bench and hope I can fight off the upper body woes that all aging men suffer.
There's still that hollow place inside, but with each day it gets filled up with the laughter and good memories of a year well spent with two boys that I love and admire.