Boys' Ski Trip

It was a reunion of sorts. The Holik boys gathered in our house for breakfast before they took a 10-hour drive to Colorado for a ski trip. Well, for some of them it would just be a trip because they weren’t going to ski and at least three of them were merely going snowboarding. So ski trip was really misnomer, but it mattered very little. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company no matter what they did. They appeared to have a good ole time just sitting around the table eating the burritos we bought for them from Josie’s. They were going to leave at around ten, but were delayed until 11, for they had to pick up Trevor from the airport and then pick up the rental van. I was pretty sad sending them away for a few days. Although I coveted my privacy, having the boys home just made everything right again. They took a part of me with them when they went off to college, and my heart was made whole every time they came home, yet they never stayed very long and the constant goodbyes, the patching-up and tearing-away, seems to make my heart more and more fragile as days go by.

Such is life, I suppose. I am terrible at saying goodbyes, just like another poet much greater than I am. “I can scarcely bid you good bye in a letter. I always made an awkward bow.”