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The Loneliest Number | by Nichole Renee
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The Loneliest Number

It seems that most of my recent posting have become a cathartic journal of sorts.


It's just been hard knowing that my parents are moving. Especially hard when I consider my little guy. He adores Grammie, and she cares for him during the school year. I just can't imagine him not having her daily influence.


At the same time, I have to consider my Dad. He calls every night to talk to my Mom. It's obvious from his tone of voice and what he's talking about that he is really enjoying this job.


It's also obvious that he misses my Mom terribly. His voice cracks when he first starts talking to her. His response when she asks if he misses her is "Only every hour of the day." I know he can't wait until their housing is ready and she can move up there with him.


And I know she's torn because she can't bear the thought of leaving her much so that she's planning to spend the weekdays down here in the fall and only see my Dad on the weekends.


This situation really, really stinks.




(Textures by Kerstin Frank and /Cheryl Tarrant/Distressed Jewell. Bird brush by Jerry Jones.)

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Taken on June 2, 2012