A Long Sunday Ends

Mom was remembered at today's party

 

I knew today would be a long day and I was quite right.

I was up early for a drive to Milford for Hamden/Fairfield National baseball before motoring on to Cheshire for a birthday party.

Sean and I got home a few minutes ago following a long drive back featuring a guest appearance by terrible traffic through construction on Interstate 84.

So I don't really have anything profound to offer tonight.

Today was the first time I'd seen a chunk of family members since Mom's funeral and her presence -- or lack thereof -- was definitely felt. I took my nephew and his family a few things from the house that I thought should go to them and I know they'll take good care of them.

Yet there was a point -- late in the day -- when I turned to look for my mother. While I was often checking on her, I was often her driver to events like this, so I looked for her in a way that suggested it might be time to leave. It hit me, and moments like that will continue to.

It didn't bring me to my knees or anything like that and I'm not looking for pity or advice. It was a fleeting moment.

I guess I'm a little sensitive in telling these stories thanks to the concern that I'm "seeking attention." Which is utter nonsense but, then again, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

We'll climb back into the ring of life tomorrow and prepare to start taking the punches again.

I was glancing at readership for the past week. It's always easy to get too up or too down off those numbers and, more often than not, I wish I didn't know them, but I was grateful for those who read this thing. 

I'm also grateful for those who listen to the broadcasts and support the work that we do (Shawn Sailer, etc).

Then I wrote about the hot water problem and, wow, did those numbers crash. It's the nature of the beast, of course.

But the editorial thing still bothers me, and it's sort of a personal issue to me. I was actually kind of proud of myself for how I handled that and a few other knuckleheads this week.

Still I have to watch it before I turn into Clint Eastwood, telling people to "Get off my lawn."

Every day is live and learn, I suppose.

I'm babbling.

Monday awaits.