Monday, January 7, 2013

The sadness of the bunk beds

Did you like that title?  It's because I'm reading THE ELEGANCE OF THE HEDGEHOG right now, and so I keep turning my life into titles modeled on that one.

(BTW I am intrigued by the book but not loving it as much as I want to.  I assume this a problem with me rather than with the book.)

Anyway.  I woke up this morning feeling kinda sad.  But why I asked myself.  Is it that the bunk beds are gone now?  We happily let Lawyer Son and his family take them this weekend.  They've just moved into a great little bungalow, and they're starting out their lives just like Ken and I were thirty years ago--looking forward to a bunch of stuff including more kids in bunk beds, which is awesome.

But having those bunk beds leave our house means that yup.  That part of our life is d.o.n.e. done.  I'm still adjusting to the fact.  So maybe that's why I'm sad.

Or maybe I'm sad because I have the stomach flu this morning and don't feel like eating the rest of the Magleby's chocolate cake in our cupboard.  That isn't just sad--that's tragic.


Lisa B. said...

There is nothing quite so triste as the (ongoing parade of) reminders that that part of one's life is over. I always like to cry a little about it and think about writing a poem. The poem usually doesn't get written, but thinking about it usually cheers me up enough to get up off the floor and put some clothes on, for heaven's sake, and go to Target. I'm sad that you are sick, and I hope that you get better while that cake's still good.

Emily said...

While I happily installed bunk beds this month for my two little girls, I was sad to see the toddler bed go. I guess it never ends? This life keeps marching on, leaving cribs, baby seats, strollers, and bunk beds in its wake.

Rachel said...

You must make it to the ending of that book. It is worth it. Keep reading.

Louise Plummer said...

I have given a houseful of furniture to my kids. Here's the good part: you can visit your kids and your furniture. I love the way my longtime dining room table looks in Sam and Sarah's house.

Get better. There's always more cake.

CSIowa said...

I'll be interested in what you think of the book when you're finished. Describing it makes it sound depressing--and it is--but it is the most heartwarming, life-affirming depressing book I've read.

Feel better. Louise, as usual, is a genius.