My husband left for Korea this morning. Between all the teen boys having to go a million different directions and the fact that I work for a church and today is Sunday, we almost missed it!
OK, not really. But it wasn't the only thing happening this morning, that's for sure.
Today I let the oldest drive his brothers all over the place. It's something I'm still getting used to, but I trust him and he's a good kid, and that accident he had a year ago was really good because it made him pay attention in a whole different way. Teenagers. Driving people around. How did THAT happen!? But there were soccer games at the same time as church. No dad around. We've hopped soccer teams so much we don't even know where anyone on the team lives, much less know them well enough to make them come pick our kid up. Nope. This one had to be an inside job. All family. And the oldest is almost 18. Almost a grown man. OK, again, how did this happen?
I'm having a Geritol moment here.
It's funny. This life is so strange. I want to talk all about my husband's trip and what he's doing and what it means. But it's his story to tell. I can only tell my story. Which of course is all Kudzu vined in with his! Tricky business.
As I was dumping all over, I mean talking with a friend today we were breaking down why it's still hard for me when my husband goes to Asia, even though so far this time I only have fear about it being hard. This time so far has just been freaking busy. But I think there's a physical fear, a memory of what's happened before. And there's some funky completely irrational stuff. When he first stated going to the adult adoptee events when we lived in Minnesota, even when he went to his very first KAAN conference in 2002, I remember thinking "please don't leave me because I'm white! I can't help it".
Now, with what I know about the profound white privilege I experience every day, I know that's a gigantic gloss over. Every day my husband experiences losses because of his race. To think that I shouldn't have any repercussions from being white is a white supremacist point of view. I know that, I've learned. And yet, even now while he's still in the air I find myself thinking "don't leave me because I'm white, I can't help it" I can't help thinking it. So, if he leaves me because I'm an insane and irrational person or because I'm completely a different religion than he is or because I will never, ever get rid of that box of antiques in the garage that drives him crazy, is that OK? "Oh well, if you're leaving me because I'm crazy, well then that's fine, as long as it isn't because I'm white then, okey fine."
I just don't want to lose him or our family. We have a good thing. It's not worth chucking overboard. And the white thing is just one piece of a very long string of story beads. OK, it's like a dozen of the beads, but it's sure as hell not the whole story.
Maybe there is some onsite spa that would let me stay for the next four days while we wait this thing out because OK, yeah. It's kind of scary. Just a little. You know, just a little.