Return

My boy plowed through the front door of my condo this morning, fairly early by most standards. He finished up school yesterday, took his last final, and drove up from Champaign. I was on the phone with a customer as he tromped past, tossed his backpack on the living room floor while laying his guitar case in front of the fireplace, proceeded to flop on my old leather couch. He loves that couch and rightfully so. It’s soft and fluffy, perfect for naps. I finished my call, said hello, welcomed him home. Nate grunted a hello, said he had a good trip, then drifted off into a nap, his light snoring almost a distraction while I worked. Shortly thereafter, he shuffled into the bathroom for a quick shower and into his bedroom for more sleep. I didn’t see him again until around 5 this evening.

I guess school wore him out. Although I think I remember a little what it was like to be 22. I slept quite a bit then.

This is probably my last time living with my son. He is officially done with school, interviewing for jobs, trying to decide where he is going to live. Soon, I won’t have a place for him to stay, since I am selling my condo this February-March. When Lisa and I marry at the end of March, I am moving into her condo, a short move since she lives in the building next door. I spent the last two Saturdays cleaning out her garage, hoping to clear enough space for the few things I am going to bring with me. Most importantly, there needs to be enough room in her garage for my bikes.

Life’s chapter is turning yet another page. Four years ago, the chapter that began was a dramatic one, a dramatic change. Today’s chapter has both children on their own — one a newlywed teaching music at a school overseas, the other beginning his own story. And I am starting a new story, hopeful and eager to see what is in store.

Sometimes I worry what my children think about their father, now that the dust has settled from the divorce. It’s not easy for them to see me moving on, I am sure. Neither is expressing any anger, both seem to accept it. Tonight, Nate asked me where the wedding ceremony is going to be, was interested as I told him about the little old white church out in the country we are using for the ceremony. I want to ask him to stand up with me for the ceremony, but am a little afraid that will be too much for him. If I am going to ask him, it probably should be this week, since he leaves this Sunday to visit his sister and will be gone for the holidays.

So, my quiet little nest is invaded for the next few days.

Patience Required

What a strange yet exciting time I am in right now!

Marriage for the second time in March. I am excited. She is wonderful and just what I need. There are so many ways we are a perfect fit. My life is going to change in many positive ways, including financially, as some of my debt goes away when I sell my condo, and I no longer have a mortgage payment! Divorced life sucks when you are the one who has to pay the ex. In a way, I get to start over in more ways than one.

With the new relationship comes challenges, as I wrote about recently. The church we attend doesn’t like that I am divorced, especially since my divorce wasn’t due to adultery. In their eyes, I didn’t have a scriptural reason for divorce, even after a face to face meeting I had with a church staff counselor and a church elder. It’s disappointing to me, but not surprising. After the meeting I had with the counselor and elder, I received an email from the counselor saying that he recommended reconciliation with my ex. Anything else would be considered adultery. His reaction was no surprise to me. It’s disappointing, but I will have to deal with it. Thankfully, no disciplinary action is being taken.

I am a member of the church now. Membership is called being a ‘mission partner’. I am being asked how I want to serve, something I like. I met last Sunday with the guy who is in charge of music, who responded to my interest in playing my trumpet for church worship or other needs. At my previous church, I played in the swing orchestra and also in the worship band. We shall see how that pans out. I am still a decent horn player. Last night, I was a server for the annual women’s Christmas dinner, a big event with several hundred women. Lisa hosted a table, which she decorated magnificently. I was a waiter. Lisa loved that, especially since I added a little touch by wearing a fake moustache. It was funny. I was only able to persuade one other guy to wear a fake moustache and it was a hit. We had fun with it. The evening was a little strange, however, as many of the men who served were also church elders. I get the idea that they are a little uncomfortable with me, largely because they know of my divorce background. It’s going to take a while with them. I am trying to be patient.

Squeezing

I had just walked through the door of my home, tired. It had been a long evening, one of many this week. It’s December, after all, one of the busiest months of the year. My phone was ringing.

“Hey Dad, I accidentally order Chipotle to be delivered to your house. I cancelled it but they delivered it anyway. Check your front door.”

Sure enough, Chipotle, at my front door. I opened the bag and immediately wondered what my son is living on. When he is home with me during the summer, I try to emphasize how important it is to conserve money by planning meals, grocery shopping, not eating out all of the time. I am pretty sure he ignores that, judging by the steak bowl with guac and queso that he ordered for himself. It’s difficult to keep myself from comparing. When I was in college, it was a treat to be able to eat dinner at the local pizza buffet once a month with my friends. The rest of the time was the boring food served in the school cafeteria. I just plain did not have the money to spend.

He does. I suppose that says a lot about the savvy my son has. These days, he rarely asks for money. He did ask for money recently. When I said no, mainly because I simply don’t have money to give to him, he shrugged it off, said he would CASH IN ONE OF HIS INVESTMENTS. Say what?

My son followed up his phone calls with a text. An announcement. “Hey Dad, I am dating. Can you tell grandpa to keep from commenting on my FB?”. Sure enough, he had just posted a few pictures on his FB page of a recent date. The fact that Nate even mentioned it to me is a rare accomplishment. My boy doesn’t usually say anything to me. He is as private as private can be. After a few texts, I even managed to get the first name of his date. Her name is Jess, a tall girl who fits well next to my 6’4″ son. A friend who works for a florist had donated a dozen roses to him and another friend for dates they had set up for them. The pictures looked a bit odd to me. Who gives a dozen roses to their date on a first date? It seems to have worked. She looks happy next to my blushing son.

I am glad he communicated with me. My dad did notice the pictures that Nate posted on FB, sent me a text to ask about them and commented on how slim my son was looking. I replied back, let Dad know that Nate was hoping no one from our generation would comment on his post. Dad behaved, only liked the picture.