I am woken in the middle of the night by fretting.
It’s every bit as urgent as a loud bang on the front door or a ringing telephone would be.
I take a practiced deep breath and rest one hand on my belly and one on my heart which is beating furiously.
I continue to breathe following each inhalation as it makes its way, un-escorted, around my body. When I finally settle down my disturbing thought prods me, ‘what are you doing here?’
I shake my head to clear it.
That’s all I need, a guilty conscience forcing its way forward. Here I am looking forward to my final months in England, do I really need the guilt trips now?
I shift positions and look over at my cross wall where Christ bodies shimmer in the light of my iPod charger; my mother loved crucifixes.
“Lor’,” I grumble at the wall, “strut your stuff for me and take away this cup…” I’m tired and sick to my stomach, I don’t care about being reverent.
I breathe deeply trying to control the demon fluttering in my chest.
But no, the darkness encroaches despite my glowing LED clock display beside my bed. I cross myself.
I start up my mantra, ‘I will enjoy these final months… I will enjoy these final months…’
Hubs stirs beside me, I gently push him and he turns over.
I sigh, it’s too late the monkey in my mind has slipped his chains.
I get up freeing myself from the heavy, winter duvet.
In the lounge I hug a blanket and stand at the window and usher my thoughts forward one by one. They tumble over each other in their haste.
‘You are a homeschooling mother, four thousand miles away from your children; what are you doing?
‘You have abandoned four marvels of creation who have barely been out of your sight since birth; what on earth do you think you are doing?’
“Lord?” I pray. I open the curtain, “I thought we had a plan?”
On cue positive thoughts start to slowly break through,
‘You are exultant that you managed to rip your apron off and escape!
‘You are living every mother’s secret dream to lose hold of her offspring for a season…or four.’
The loud fretting returns, clamouring to be heard,
‘You’re embroiled in a mid life crisis; you’re running away from your parental responsibilities; you looked your children in the eye and said,
“I’ll be back,” without saying when.’
I’m aghast at the truth.
The story leading up to this is my life, every moment led here, there was nothing else I could do. I am doing nothing wrong, all my children are grown. I smile at my reflection in the window.
I am having a late night encounter with self and I am exactly where God wants me to be…
It’s a platitude I cling to while I make a cup of Earl Grey.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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