I’m scared of what this week will bring.
I’m scared to go to bed alone, wake up alone, and have no one around to take care of but me.
I’m scared of the emotions that will come out because there is NO ONE to keep me in check.
I’m scared the grief will overwhelm me.
I’m scared that my kids won’t miss me while they’re gone.
Tomorrow they go to Clinton (tiny little town in the middle of the middle of nowhere) to spend a week with their cousins. I’m excited for them. They’re freaking thrilled. I’m pretty sure if I said they could, they’d stay the entire 2 weeks.
I’m not going home tomorrow night… I don’t think. I’m staying in the city as far as I know – but as of yet, I have no plans for the evening.
I don’t know that I want to wake up on Sunday morning in my house without my kids or husband.
So tomorrow, I have plans with friends Saturday afternoon, and depending on how those plans go, I will have plans for the early evening and I’m going to bring a change of clothes in case I need to make plans for the later evening.
If necessary, I’m sure I can go crash on my cousin’s couch for the night. I do know at least two friends who would love to see me, if not put me up for the night. I’m ok for tomorrow night.
But Sunday night – that’s a different story. That involves being home, no prep for the next morning and just responsible for myself. I’m not sure what I”m going to do with myself. Ok, I’m going to watch Walking Dead. And I’m going to do yoga. But I don’t know what I’m going to do without my kids to drive me crazy.
This will be good for them – the making of more happy memories (take some damn pictures Susan!!!) And it will be good for me too, taking the time to be by myself.
But I’m still scared.