Things I See...

I see us finally having our children meet.
I see us sharing a cup of tea at 4:00, and a glass of wine at 9:00, and another cup of tea at 11:00 because we can't seem to stop talking while our children sleep.
I see us taking in a show in London when we are 50. Our devoted hubbies are home with the kids, and we are walking arm in arm through a chilly city in October. October because it is my birthday, my 50th, for which I had to go back to London -- my birth place. We wander the city after the show, talking and laughing, wrapped in warm coats and colorful scarves. We are smashing, if I do say so myself.
I see us in Maine when our kids are teenagers. You have been visiting your family in Camden and have come across to Damariscotta for the day. We spend a warm sunny day water skiing, kayaking, watching James and Tessa flirt tentatively. She is a couple of years older, but James' British accent overcomes that age difference. We sauna in the evening and sit on the deck with sauna cooked keilbasa and some brie. Our kids have that slightly painful awkward self-conscious thing going on, and we wince and giggle behind their backs...but they are glorious, none the less.
I see us on the phone with each other from many miles away when our kids leave for college, crying, consoling, laughing at ourselves, remembering the days of missing our boyfriends instead of our children.
I see us exchanging long love letters to each other as we discover our real adult selves in the space that comes with the heartache of an empty nest. You will start painting. Or writing a book. I will become devoted to photography. I'll try spinning pottery on a wheel but I'll be horrible at it; I'll love it none the less and I'll wrap a ridiculously cadywampous vase in a hundred pounds of bubble wrap to send it to you across the sea. Our love letters will be full not only of our new self discoveries (the arts, the soul searching, and the empty house sex with those boyfriends of old who are now our husbands!), but also with prideful, detailed stories about the lives our grown children are living...the jobs they have had and left, the loves they have found and lost, and then, oh my, they have babies and we become grandmas. I think I will be called Nana, and you will be Nonna. We'll enjoy the similarity.
This is what I see. It is real. It exists. It lives. And I believe. Feel the reflection of that, baby! One silver lining of this blip for me is that without it, I might have lost you forever. But now I see all this. And I can't wait. I love you - Lindsay