This is the way to Grandma’s house


It’s quiet. It’s too quiet. I never realized you can hear the upstairs clock from the living room. In fact, I never realized you can hear each clock’s second hand tick in an off-beat pattern together. Three clocks in all ticking loudly.

You can hear the refrigerator hum, too. And a plane from outside. And the DVR always crunching its hard drive.

The house is missing the children. I am missing the children. They left about three hours ago in a car with their Grandparents. They’ll be staying with my In-Laws this week so that I may take a trip to The Netherlands for business and Mr. Flinger can take his structural engineering test. It’s so nice of them to offer.

But god it’s so fucking quiet.


The children add life to this place that I never realized. They breathe in their own rhythm independent of the clocks and each other. Just their presence gives this space a warmth. I never realized.

I always pictured having time away. For years Mr. Flinger and I wondered if we could just grab a few days, maybe a week, to remember what it was like before.

Only just today I’m realizing there is no way of being “before” for me ever again. I can enjoy the time to be an adult, a business lady, a person. But I will always be a mom.

And I hope my house never breathes without my children in it for long.

I never realized how much I love their presence.

Until it’s gone.

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