Summer is over.
Oh, the hundred-degree afternoons are still with us, and the grass, dry and sere. The sun is still beating down and sapping my strength day by day.
But Brendan is gone.
Somehow he seems more gone this year than he did last August, when we sent him off to his Great College Freshman Adventure. Perhaps because he's older; maybe because he won't be coming home for Thanksgiving unless I can somehow pay his fare.
He doesn't leave town until Friday, when his dad will put him on a bus for Iowa, but he will spend tomorrow with Jimmy and Rachel in Jarrell. I am, after all, not the only family he has.
He has been gone only half an hour, but the house is already dark and quiet.
I know, I know...he's a man now. Thank God I'm sad about his going off to college and not terrified that he's going to Afghanistan. I can't even think about that one.
So, once again, I pull up my socks and stop whining. He's getting an education, right? He's going to leave home eventually, right? I don't want him living at home when he's 35, right?
So, pass the Glen and the Kleenex, please...