Holding my breath 9/25/07

I know better than to hold my breath, but sometimes it seems like so many things are up in the air, that it's hard not to sort of freeze in the moment, waiting to decide how to react after whatever happens next happens. I should be able to figure out a way to act as a way of influencing what happens next, but I'm not sure how. Sometimes, particularly when life is blessed with complexity and fullness, there are so many others to consider and they are so dear that in the course of trying not to hurt anyone, we end up hurting ourselves.

I know better but I'm doing it anyway, waiting while The Youngest decides about college and we both do what we need to do to see that he gets there. I'm waiting while The Oldest goes through the interview process deciding on his career path. I'm proud of how prepared he is, how certain of the general direction he wants to take, knowing that so many young men his age have no idea what they want "to be". In a process that often leads to impulsive choices, he's been patient and focused on well defined goals. I'm waiting while Middle Son's college experience culminates in remarkable achievement. They are all three very present, comfortable in their skin. They all three have good hearts and I'm holding my breath and knocking on wood grateful to think of how close I am to having three successful launches.

I've been holding my breath watching the tropics, which have been stunningly active in recent weeks without producing anything landfalling beyond TD 10, a fascinating two-eyed storm that did what they all seem to be doing, taunting the NHS with erratic unpredictability. It makes for pretty pictures, though, and fearful anticipation, and I don't have to watch too long before I suddenly realize I'm holding my breath again. Right now there are three systems (including TD 13 - Lorenzo, below) and the season seems to have become unusually problematic and unpredictable. We have elusively shifting movement amidst complicated systems prompting uneven hesitance by a National Hurricane Center in turmoil.

                           

I'm approaching the edge of a threshold, staring at a looming empty nest, nervous and excited at the same time, facing a delicate dance that I hope successfully launches all three sons and lands me somewhere in their wake, able to choose what happens next, and to breathe.

Peace, out, y'all.