immediately after i finished writing the last blog, I received this e-mail from martin:

Sub:  And now

Today at 10:28 am

... for the inevitable after-visit melancholy.  It's always sad to see my parents leave.  I especially enjoyed watching them with the kids.  It's a good thing, though, that our girls aren't spoiled like that all the time.  And that I don't eat chips and ice cream every night.

I'm listening to the breeze outside and wondering where the fall has gone and is going.  Mt Rainer was just gorgeous as I drove down to work, stark and backlit by the sun.

Love you and I'll talk to you/see you soon. It will be nice to have our bedroom back. As I told my Dad, staying on the trundle is like being a guest in your own house.  Or like being a kid again, with the portable stereo in the bed.  Sort of felt like my parents were ... my parents again, their bedroom down the hall and large and adult.

Martin

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Sub:  Re: And now
Today at 10:54 am

Martin,

How funny.  Just sitting here and missing you, too, and wanting to have a nice long chat and a cup of tea.  I miss you most when there's a moment like this--a transition moment, a moment to contemplate and gather up and pause before walking on.  I was just reflecting on everything you said in my blog and wishing that you were here to talk to instead.

Perhaps what is nicest about having one's parents near by is exactly what you said--that you can feel like a kid again for a while, dwell in that safe, lovely place where the world is full of possibilities and you can eat chips and ice-cream and not worry that you're actually half-way or more to being old.  You just feel like a teenager again and housekeeping and children and jobs are more of playthings than reality. 

Then you're back to being a real adult, and, oh, it's kind of a drag.

And oh, very silent, too.

And oh, you're the parent again: the last threshold between your kids and all that the world holds, the buffer zone, the orange safety jacketed person standing in the intersection between childhood and adulthood. 

When parents are around, it's like you take off the orange safety jacket and hand it to them, and you're the kid hanging out on the curb again.  A nice place to be, all in all.

I love you.
xoxoxoxo

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 Sub: Re: And now
Today at 11:07 am

Well said, as always, my dear.  It's so nice to have the buffer, as you called it. 

And yes, now we're back to being "halfway or more to old."  Bummer.

A student told me he'd sent me a Facebook message, so I checked FB for the first time in a long while (but he must have sent it to the wrong Martin Cockroft; no message from him).  I noticed Uncle David had posted this picture on my timeline.  Made me wish I were a kid again, just for the day, with nothing to do but sit in a picnic table at a park with my family and cousins and explore and squabble and get dirty and tired. Maybe get a tick.

This is a photo of me at eight or so with my cousin Christopher, who is now a marine biologist in Kodiak, Alaska.  How time flies!  The grey shirt and the arm with the watch is my Dad.  I remember his watch arm perfectly well: the wrist with the watch and then the arm deeply marked with a scar from his childhood, where he broke his arm jumping on a trashcan.  Funny--I'll bet my parents still feel as if they'd like to be kids again, too.

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Sub: Re:  And now
Sent at 11:26 am

Martin,

Don't I look so much like Elspeth?  I wonder if I used to have half the energy she exhibits on a regular basis?  On the way to school today, she tucked up with Harry Potter, completely immersed for the brief moments before I had to kick her out of the car.

All the sheets are in the washer and the dryer.  Your parents left us with enough treats that we can continue acting like kids for a few days at least.  And our kids are dying to carve their pumpkins.  There's trick-or-treating and we can just relax and have a fun week.

I need to climb out of my melancholy and try to jump back into work again.  Maple awaits.  That's the nice thing about writing--you can become a kid again through your characters.  And after talking with your mom, I think that's what I've been missing most.  I've been so obsessed with everything working together perfectly that I haven't just relaxed and delighted in Maple's character for a while.  Your mom said to include more of Maple's thoughts, get inside her head and the quirky way kids think.  She's right.  Ah, sigh.   I think I burned my toast again.

Come home as soon as you can and we'll drink wine and be silly and stupid and be kids with each other.  That's the best thing about you, maybe.  That we can still be kids together.  That's the key, I guess, to staying young.

xoxoxoxoxo
You're the best.
Kim