Austin has "officially" gone home...

   

      

          Last week when I took Austin swimming in Biltmore Lake we waded in at a shallow part by the boat house, enjoying the coolness of the water.  Then with a splash, Austin plunged his whole body underwater.  When he came up, water dripping off his curly head,  he announced, “I am now officially in the water…”  This is an Austin pronouncement, something he does which takes me by surprise.  It's one of many fun things I’ll remember and miss about him now that he’s gone home to Washington D.C.

            The house is quiet today but I can hear the sound of Austin giggling and the running up and down of his bare feet on our wood floors.  Three weeks of babysitting for Austin,while his parents worked, lead us to develop a new relationship.  He started teasing and then nonstop giggling, making up silly rhymes about Grandma or Art and then dissolving in fits of laughter.  He’s happy, I thought. I realized he is so relaxed with us now he can giggle away and trust we will just tease right back.  Each morning we picked him up at his rental house. He buckled himself into his booster seat either in the Subaru or Toyota and was ready to spend the day with us. 

            All day today I have  thought about and remembered Austin's visit.  I imagine he would make a disbelieving face if I told him “the ghost of Austin” now lives in my house."I'm not a ghost.." he might say. But right now he is everywhere in my house.  The piles of games we played as a family,  the workbooks and markers I had for him to color and practice writing letters and numbers in are packed away.  The  Nature Journal I gave him and made him write Spanish words in is on its way to Washington DC  somewhere in the Mini car. Perhaps he will find it one day this summer and remember the Spanish Nature Scavenger hunt we went on.  The nonstop Spanish I spoke to him while he was here is still in my head and I imagine those conversations and how good it was to have someone to speak my other language with.

            The dining room table seems empty with only two of us sitting for meals.  I look at the open place across from where I usually sit, and in my mind that is where Austin"s should be. I am saving his place.  I see him sitting there at lunchtime working his way through his daily ham and cheese sandwich after he has carefully taken his Doritos and arranged them between two slices of bread.  

            “Where did you learn to do that?” I asked him.  He just shrugged and smiled slyly.  When he bit into his sandwich it made a crunchy sound.  That usually was followed by the negotiation over postre or dessert.  “What do I get when I finish this?”  he always wanted to know.

            I’ve been out to the garage numerous times today to put things away and the beach towels look forlorn on the shelf, the bag of wiffle balls and the bat are in a bag in the far corner. I wonder when he’ll be back to play out front on our perfect dead end, no traffic street.  I won’t forget his comment to me, “Grandma, it’s good you own this parking lot.”
  

          The swim noodle is on the shelf but I am glad it got a good workout just a few days ago when we took it to the lake. There’s a sadness, I think, in putting all these things away and always that uncertainly as to when he will be back.

            Now when I walk into our bedroom I see the carved out space in the middle of the queen bed and remember snuggling up with Austin watching two Harry Potter movies in the afternoons.  I can feel Austin’s small hand cover my eyes during the “scary parts” which he has memorized and can anticipate perfectly.  Reading the first four Harry Potter books was worth all those hours anticipating Austin’s July arrival.  I like to think that six-year-old Austin was impressed.

            After dinner I will walk outdoors and see the many rabbits come out to feed.  I will miss the evening walks with Austin down to the end of Black Horse Run and back along the trail, watching, and counting rabbits.  Last night after dinner, our final evening together, Austin came in to report he had tracked five rabbits. 

            So many memories of “Camp Biltmore Lake” this summer which we all enjoyed despite the pandemic restrictions.  No sand beach to play on, but the lake still there to swim in.  Tennis courts available and a chance to watch Austin volley expertly with his Dad.  The lake trails open for biking and walking.  The “silver lining” (a cliché that has evolved during these long months of Covic19 restrictions) has been a three-week visit and not the usual annual one week vacation. 

            The pandemic is far from over and with the uncertainty of Austin’s schooling this fall perhaps they’ll be back for another extended stay and city getaway.  I’d like to hear Austin say to me, “Grandma, did I mention we might be back in the fall?”  

            For now he’s “officially” left and I miss him already.