I know of the head.
I know of the heart - it's very often (always?) ahead of the head.
After the final hugs, words, and waves, an unfamiliar part of my pscyhe rose to the surface. I don't know what it's called.
If the heart is at the heart level, this newly felt thing is below that at the bottom of the ribcage but above the belly.
Driving off, I was very aware of this part. It knew something was wrong. A kind of heightened awareness.
I feels a bit like shock, when you're kind of aware of the surroundings, but not processing it. The heart hasn't picked it up yet; but the head knows something's coming.
There are times when the heart - the high chest area - is so full it overwhelmes the head - thankfully! - for release. Tears, wracking sobs... "Release" is the right word; I'm left relieved, and quieted. Even though I'm often unprepared for the trigger, I welcome the release.
Driving over to 101, I'm wondering "how hard is this going to hit the heart? Am I going to have to pull over?" I check my mirrors.
This is Dropoff #3. That subsubconcious thing knows something big has happened, but the brain is for once ahead of the heart.
The heart fears. It fears the loss and the unknown.
The brain knows the loss isn't a big Loss, it's a little loss. And it's temporary. The brain knows this will be manageable. It knows the heart has dealt with much worse.
This time, the heart is not panicking.
The brain is not playing those What If? games. It's not thinking about the time between the next contact. It's not denial, it's just not exploring all the fears. We've done that enough in the past.
Much of The Unknown is now known. The head is not sabotaging the heart.
All the things we told ourselves about how well our kid is going to do has come true. It is undeniable Truth. He's fine. He'll be home again and our heart will be full like no time has passed (except that we treasure the moments even more).
He also understands better the effect of distance on us. He's staked his independence, we've honored it, and we're not a threat to it. There's a lot more Chill there (their "good" chill, not our "frosty" chill).
The drive home was an interesting balancing between the shock (the core psyche?), the head and the heart. Not denying, not supressing, but not fleshing out the fears - none of them came true and there was no point in extra drama. Yes, we'll miss our boy every day. Yes, we'd prefer to see him in the hallway so that we can tell him to take his dishes to the kitchen. Yes, tears, will flow unexpected.
But he'll be back in due time. Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Then Christmas.
As an incoming Junior, we know he's adjusted to the academic grind. He's likely going to make it. Even if he weren't somehow, he's good. He'll be fine. He's already much much more than he was before. His future is his and it's entirely within his control.
As much as any of our future is in our control. So my worry is for the greater social environment we all live in. If we remain okay, he'll be okay.
Oh, and a couple of hours into our drive home, he called and talked for a while. He's going to be okay; we're going to be okay.
And if our heart gets overwhelmed now and then in missing him, that will be okay too.
All moments are precious. These are particularly rich.
Love to you all,
