On Going Home

English: After the hedge-cutter. The lane from Newton Valence to Selborne (Gracious Street when it reaches Selborne) just after a visit by the hedge-cutter. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I went home to visit most of my kids last week. It was really good to see them. I do love them, but going to see them is hard. First it costs money for the plane ticket. Then I have to be housed and fed. There is also a real problem with deciding who to stay with and how to use the time. I'm usually pretty sure they don't want their schedules disrupted by my visit, even though they are gracious.
I get the feeling sometimes that I'm not understanding the messages. They want to see me, but they don't know what to do with me. I'm not relevant to their lives in the way I was before. It's sort of the same with me. I don't really have any command of their lives or play a defining role in the day to day business of life.

We shared the old memories and laughed about old jokes, but the new and future things are built around their children and their jobs. It made me sad that I'm no longer included.