We will miss you, David.

****

David drove off into his brilliant future this morning.

Two nights ago I slept very little. It was restless anticipation. There was no tossing and turning. I simply was still and let stuttering images flicker through my head... like old time movies.

The past six months, David has been with me at a place he now calls home. I'm entering my 8th year on Monteagle Mountain where I'm pretty certain I've lived the longest other than the home of my childhood. This home has become the place where David can set anchor. It's the place he knows I like to invite my friends when he's in town so each can assess the pleasure they bring into my life. David was the one to observe that he considers my home, home.

He was here for six months. I wonder what computer memory capabilities I have: Bytes, Kilobytes, Megabytes, Gigabytes, Terabytes? How much can a heart hold? Eyes? Ears? How many conversations? How does one measure laughter? How does one measure the wisdom of advice? Day trips? Curiosities? How?

We were in and out of Lake Oswego and KCMO numerous times to visit grandchildren and nephews and nieces. We had the best ever, ever Thanksgiving with Rachel and her family and friends. Life was a calliope of experiences. So much laughter. I still have a stitch in my side.

****

We were unexpectedly gifted with six months of unfettered time. Oh, sure, there was that pesky Tennessee Bar... but we even developed a routine around it and spent every evening meal together with conversation or recreational TV.

And while David became Army Strong with incalculable miles running around Clifftops and pull-ups and sit ups and many other exercises, I joined with a routine of 1 or 2 or 3 miles each day on my treadmill as well as free weights.

He burst into each day brighter than the rising sun. Our free-falling repartee inspired Neighbor Olivia to observe, "You two are so much fun." (Stace & Katie & Chase & Rachel, you would've added pleasurable harmony and side-splitting guffaws to our conversations.)

It was the best six months of my entire life... entire life.

But he drove off into his brilliant future this morning, and guess what... I'm just fine. I would have it no other way. And this is why:

1. I don't believe in clipping wings. I enjoy the soar too much.

2. When David was young, every single day (and I mean every single day), when he came home from school, he'd burst through the front door and holler, "You won't believe what happened today!" Every single day he had a remarkable story for me. And that has been true every day since he left home many years ago. Though he might not be able to report in every day, I don't cling. I wait and savor.

So, that's why I'm not totally sad tonight. I've already received a call this evening with an update of the amazing events of today. I know... I just know... I just know - that those amazing calls will continue to ring in. His brilliant future continues... NOW!

P.S. The photo is of a lamp in my studio