He’s leaving home. Bye, bye.
7:17 a.m.
Friday evening saw our house inundated by a couple of aunts, an uncle, my mother, Hubby’s parents, two brothers and a sister-in-law. We got them fed (barbecued veggie burgers and salad) and the next shift arrived: three former roommates of Hubby’s from undergrad days with their wives. It was a reunion. One of the wives I had never met, being a second (I was at the ill-fated first wedding), and one of the others I had not seen since the year we were first married (they celebrated their 25th in the spring). So it was quite fun.
One of the brothers and my mother stayed at our place and everyone else departed for their respective hotel/motels, leaving us with a mess (I’m not complaining, really I’m not!), and the next day we had to get flower centrepieces over to the faculty lounge and gussy ourselves up for our special do. Oh, it was raining in the morning. Then it cleared up towards 4 p.m., the appointed hour for gathering in the gazebo.
Actually, it became very sunny and hot and extremely humid. I thought I was going to melt. Our combo was already playing jazz tunes, my cousin from NJ was there, the caterers had set up their tables with hors d’oeuvres and the bar was in full swing. For about an hour people arrived and drank and nibbled and listened to jazz and got caught up. Then the skies suddenly opened and rain poured down.
More than 50 people were forced to seek refuge in th gazebo and the musicians continued to play. The rain would lighten a little, then get heavier, then get really heavy, then lighten. It was a constant tease. Suddenly the lightning and thunder started, and it was right on top of us. The musicians stopped playing at this point. There was so much rain, it looked like sheets. The wind picked up and gusted water into the gazebo, drenching anyone sitting on the benches, so that we all ended up huddled together in the middle like bees in a winter hive.
At around 6:30 it let up enough that we could leave the protection of the gazebo and enter the building where the faculty lounge is located. The room was set up beautifully with the band at one end on the movable dance floor. Supper was served at 7:00. Our guests kept exclaiming how good the chicken was (stuffed with spinach and apricots), and our vegetarian portion was pretty tasty. Only two of our invited guests didn’t make it: the Serbian violist who left a message on our machine, and the accompanist. That one is a mystery to me.
Between the main course and dessert, Hubby got up and made his speech, and then we performed Misty, a rather elongated version, with the other musicians, and it went really well. Even my mother complimented me, an unheard of thing. Other people got up and make impromptu speeches, and then the band played some more for people to dance to. We checked out of there around 1 a.m.
Yesterday we were once more descended upon by the same people as on Friday night, coming to say good bye before they began their journeys home. My mother went back with my brother- and sister-in-law, our other houseguest remained as Hubby’s parents booked another night at the motel, and for dinner last night we had those three as well as my cousin from NJ.
It was a successful affair. Everyone had fun, we got a huge haul of gifts, most of which are still sitting unopened on the diningroom table, and people got to reune who had not been together in years. Hubby’s old guitar teacher was even there. He played at our wedding 25 years ago. One of Hubby’s former roommates whipped out a photograph taken at his wedding showing me, Hubby with a funny 80’s haircut, and one of the other roommates with dark hair and beard, which he gave to the latter’s wife, who had never seen him when he wasn’t totally white. The intriguing thing about this photograph, however, and he has promised to send me a scanned version, is that I haven’t changed at all. Let’s hope the next 25 years are as kind to me.
Now we prepare to take our son to Toronto where he will be a student for the next four years. I have been dreading this day, stressing about it for weeks. As much as I know that he will be fine and that many kids leave home at 18 to study, it is I who am not ready. It’s not even a matter so much of him being my “baby” (although that’s true too), but that I really like Buddy Boy and I will miss having him around, I’ll miss our banter and his friendship. Hubby prevailed upon him to take the ruby iMac, which he was loath to do because it really is rather obsolete and slow, but he can’t afford a new computer and this is, technically speaking, his and his sister’s (we bought it for them for Christmas five years ago) and she doesn’t want it, having purchased a MacBook last year. So he’ll have a computer with wireless internet capabilities, as well as a printer, and he should keep in touch with us (or me) that way.
And now I have to greet the day.
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