Thoughts on a weekend alone ~ April 21, 1994

David Heiller

So how was your weekend alone? my brother-in-law asked on Sunday. You could almost hear his eyebrows going up and down like Groucho Marx at the other end of the phone line.

“It was fine.” I answered.

“Just fine?” he asked with surprise. He has two kids of his own. If he ever shipped them both off for a weekend, you can darn well bet he’d do better than fine.

So I’ll explain the fine weekend without rais­ing too many eyebrows.

We had dinner at the best restaurant in Duluth, Taste of Saigon. We bought candy at a candy store, and went to a movie, The Paper. It was the late show, but there were no kids at home so we didn’t worry about that. It was a carefree night with Cindy.

But it was strange going home to an empty house, not having to bring the babysitter home. The next morning, it was strange not hearing Noah’s radio. He usually forgets to turn it off at night. And no cartoons on Saturday morning—very strange.

I’d like to say we forgot about the kids, but that would be forgetting about your hands or your legs. You don’t think about them much, but if they are not there, you notice it.

I spent Saturday and Sunday at work doing photos and ads for “A Day In The Life Of Nor­thern Pine County,” a special section in this week’s paper. Cindy called on Saturday morning and asked what my plans were for that evening. I suggested we transplant tomato seedlings. “Well, I guess that would be all right,” she said. But her voice said, Gee, how romantic.

She had other plans. She made shrimp and pasta and parsnips fried in butter. I opened a bottle of champagne. We lit a candle. After din­ner we turned on the TV and watched Nancy Griffith sing. That’s something we wouldn’t normally do on a Saturday night. Not with dirty dishes still on the table.

It was much better than transplanting tomatoes.

We had a glimpse of life without children last weekend. It brought a strange mixture of freedom, loneliness, and worry. They’ve been, gone before, but never at the same time, never for three days. I wondered how they were doing if they were behaving, being polite, doing things we tried to teach them.

I wondered how they were going to turn out when they grew up and left home. I wondered if they would come home and visit. I wondered if they would be good children.

That made me think about what kind of son I was.

When they came home Sunday night, I spent time in each of their rooms. I didn’t have much to say. I just wanted to be near them, to watch them, to hear them tell of their weekends.

Sometimes you can see time slipping away, and you want to stop the clock. That’s how I felt. Both our kids are good kids. They are at a good age. We have a happy life, a happy home. It’s spring. Baseball has started. Soon the garden will be planted.

No, we had a fine weekend without the kids. It made me think about what a fine life Cindy and I have with them too.