Heartbreakers

I spent several days writing, editing, rewriting a thought that expanded into a billion thoughts, took over twenty paragraphs to say, and it was all about how I like Valentine's Day even when others expect me to hate Valentine's Day because I'm single and we're all supposed to hate romance. Then it became Valentine's Day and I realized that no matter how much I want to say it, I'm tired of saying it, so I'm going to say this instead:

Two of my boys are leaving for the States on Monday. They'll be back in six months, but goodbye is still hard. The 6th grader spent all week reminding me not to make his going-away party too sad: "You can't make a slideshow or anything, okay? It can't be too sad. You're not going to make it sad, are you?" I think we did a pretty good job of keeping it not sad today; the boys stuffed themselves with Ritz crackers and danced the Cha-Cha Slide. Tomorrow is the party for his brother, an 8th grader. I already know it's going to be a late night, since we're jumping the train after school tomorrow and I still have to pack. So it's likely that I'm going to have to wait to say the word "goodbye" until he's halfway out the door. Even if I were to get enough sleep, I know there'll still be tears bubbling up as we let him go for a little while.

I am 27 years old, and I spend more time crying over middle school boys than I do over men my own age. And I guess the main thing I wanted to say is that I'm really okay with that.