This morning very early we saw Dalton off for his whirlwind spring. I will miss him. He's my hippie, the Teflon Jesus we all know and love. He said he expects face time* every day. I don't know when that's going to happen with the time zones but we'll make it work. He's not as huge on affection as his brother so somehow it's easier to say goodbye, though I still cried. Dylan was with him. He gave me a quick hug and I swore at him because he won't let me write the oh-so-many good things I could share with you because he doesn't want to live online. Most of them don't, I don't think. They, like me, regard the Internet as a sort of instant-encyclopedia, good for looking up why the old guy in Colony looks so familiar, oh, it's Captain Brass from CSI kind of forgettable trivia we seem to fill our brains with when we should be filling them up to the brim, to overflowing with memories, just in case. Use the Internet to keep in touch? No way. That's why we live in a commune, silly.
Love you, Fidget. Be a good girl.
I'll do nothing of the sort. You have condoms?
No, I plan to bring my raging chlamydia-infested junk home and rub it all over you.
Hey, just no. Even Dalton is grossed out and Dalton has loved and left them all. He just did it well-wrapped.
Kidding. I love you. Take care of Benny for me and everyone else and make sure they take care of you.
Or we'll kick their asses when we get back. Dalton is stern but holding tough so he doesn't lose it. We hate goodbyes. Hate them, hate them, hate them.
Just get back in one piece, guys. I hug them both at once. Too hard, too long. I have issues.
When they leave I wipe my eyes, pull up my underpants and head straight for the bank where I put a few thousand bucks each in their accounts just in case. Just in case they gotta eat. Just in case they need a quick flight home or an emergency room bill paid. Just in case they didn't pack condoms. Just in case there's cool merch or VIP when things swing this way. Oh, I don't know. Bail money. God forbid, think up a horror scenario and I've already imagined it, though Dalton is a well-seasoned traveler and Dylan is not my child so I should worry so much less than I do but I really love it when everyone is present and accounted for at home on the point and the gate is locked across the driveway best.
I thought Ben might have a hard time seeing them go off officially but he didn't. Duncan did that super-stoic cool lizard-king thing where he doesn't react but he's got his sunglasses on and it's cloudy so I know he worries and I hugged him and told him they will be fine and if something goes wrong we will swoop in and rescue them and he nodded and smiled and squeezed me back but he didn't say much on the ride home either. The torch has passed. The marginally-younger, unencumbered, unburdened guys are going out and the older ones in recovery or with families and tired bones are staying home. It's not a life if your thoughts are always back at home, it's just a miserable, lonely kind of party. But they'll do well to make some decent money and gather just a few more stories to tell around the fire pit later this summer. I can wait. Or maybe I can't.
*(Back in the day when the kids were in diapers and the castle was cold, Ben would call maybe twice or three times during a whole run, because we didn't have cellphones. That was unbearable. At least now we can check in daily. Hourly, if need be. I like it a lot better.)
