Goodbye begins with baking four loaves
of cranberry bread, maybe not in your home, but in ours it does. As
my hands are busy measuring and making my heart pounds with a hundred
different questions: Did I make his favorite food? Did I have enough
conversations that reached his heart? Have we said all we need to say
to send this one into the world ready?
Your house may not be filled with the
fragrance of baking, but this one is- I love in the ways I hold most
dear and trust that all this food has fed their souls as well.
Perhaps the cinnamon rolls have spoken welcome and belonging when I
have not, maybe the oatmeal bread has filled their hearts with warmth
and a sense of home as nothing else will. I do what I can do- and you
will do the same. You will try to cram all the years of a child
growing into so many hugs and so many words. It is enough, they will
remember, and you will always be home if you are willing to let go;
if you do not, there is no place to return to. One cannot return when
one is tethered.
So, be brave, bake the bread, do the
shopping- whatever will settle your heart's questions and know love
will bring them home. Crumbs of cranberry bread left on the counter
remind me that Saturday's plane ride is fast approaching, but as I
plan elaborate meals this one informs me he is leaving today for the
call of Mount Mansfield and a long bike ride. “Mom, I'll be back
Thursday...” for a few days and then the long goodbye.
Medicine from Sacred Scripture:
“There is a time for everything, and
a season for every activity under heaven:
A time to weep and a time to laugh, a
time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a
time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain...”
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4, 5
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