Cindy often read “Goodnight Moon” by Margaret Wise Brown to our kids. My reading specialties tended to be the series and epics, everything from Dr. Seuss to Lord of the Rings. Cindy read the nurturing books and singular classics, like “Velveteen Rabbit” and “Goodnight Moon.” I believe that reading profusely to our kids was the best parenting practice out of everything we did.
Cindy reading “Goodnight Moon” to our kids came to mind after the strikingly memorable event of this past week, the “Goodnight Mom” that occurred the evening before our daughter Serena and boyfriend Kevin left for California. I had put Cindy to bed and was laying next to her, playing Candy Crush on the iPad. Usually one game is all it takes before she falls asleep and I get up for my evening writing and/or relaxation time.
Serena peeked in through the crack of our door and asked to say “goodbye” to Mom. They would be leaving early in the morning, before I get her up. I suggested instead that she say “Goodnight” to Mom instead. Serena entered the room, walked around to Cindy’s side of the bed, gave her a hug and said: “Good night, Mom, I love you.” Cindy smiled and giggled a little, as she usually does when I or anyone else tells her “I love you.”
I was surprised at how well the parting went, given that Serena very well could have said her final “goodnight” to her Mom. For days I was dreading the moment, imagining how broken up my lovely daughter might be over this ultimate parting. Yet she was a model of composure, leaving the room with a smile and resuming her last minute packing duties. I smiled as well; this was a nice, heartwarming final memory of her Mom for Serena to have, if this was to be the case, much like the serene ending of “Goodnight Moon.”
The next morning I got up early to be part of the final action. The kids wanted to leave by 6:00 am in order to arrive at a friend’s house in Michigan around dinner time. I knew that wasn’t going to happen. As they scurried to get their cars packed I distracted myself with some busy work, doing sweeps of the house for things they might have left behind, along with preparing bagels and coffee for them. I kept encouraging them to eat, like an Italian mom.
It was not until I busied myself breaking down the last jigsaw puzzle Serena put together that it finally happened. In a rather symbolic moment, I broke down a little as well. From that point on I made several inconspicuous trips to the tissue box in the kitchen to blow my nose and wipe my eyes without anyone noticing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Serena was supposed to be going through the emotional roller coaster of embarking on an adventure while parting from her Mom.
Yet when I went outside to say goodbye to Serena and Kevin I was the one to break down again. Serena, meanwhile, maintained her composure. Am I that much of a sap? Both of them said things like “see you later” and “we’ll be back soon” as we hugged. Perhaps that’s how they were doing it; in their minds they would see Cindy again. In my mind, I’m not so sure.
After they left I came inside to jot down some thoughts for this blog post. That did wonders for restoring my composure. Keeping this blog has helped me in many ways, as I hope it has been some help to you. I finished making notes just before the normal time of waking Cindy up. Now fully composed, I gave her the biggest smile and announced: “Time to get up, buttercup!” She smiled as she always does with one of my rhymes and we proceeded to get her day started as if nothing memorable at all just happened, because nothing memorable no longer does happen for Cindy.
This was one of the few moments of our final journey when I actually envied Cindy. Tracking down our copy of “Good Night Moon” to read might do me some good right now.
My Heart goes out to you. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting your wife, bur I’m sure she is AMAZING!!! Much love and many prayers for you and your family!!
Thank you Nancy. You know there are representatives of the Sinclair clan down in Texas now. Nephew Steve (from my brother Ernie) and nephew Dave (from my brother Dave) are both near the Fort Worth area I believe. Be well.
I’ve done enough miles with you to know that, YES, you can be THAT much of a sap! And I, and Cindy, and so many others are so terribly grateful that you are. Don’t change – we all need experiences and relationships that ground us in our lives, that give us a base for hope and a sense of serenity. You and Cindy, throughout my adult life, have done, and continue to do that, for me.
Thank you for occasionally being the “sap” (and many other good things) that you are.
Thank you very much for those kind words, Mike. I kept meaning to send you a note after you called, but I get distracted easily these days. Be mindful that if we talk on the phone I am likely to put you on speakerphone. Cindy would definitely remember who you are and would appreciate being cued in. Be well, my friend.