August | 2015 | Red Boots

The baggage claim at Oakland Airport hums with quiet anticipation this seemingly uneventful morning. A small group of parents chats casually as they cross and uncross their arms. Every now and then we glance toward the escalator. We’re waiting.

Waiting for the flight to land. For the luggage to come out. For the kids to sail down the escalator, with backpacks and smiles and stories of new friends, loud songs and whose team won the color war. From the moment they left for Camp Ramah weeks before, we have looked forward to this day.

My heart beats a little faster. Nervous. I am not ready.

It’s been a wonderfully long, hot and adventurous summer and this day, which brings the kids and endless loads of laundry home from camp (will the socks ever be white again?), signals the almost-end. Emails bursting with back-to-school info already flood my inbox. She needs a new backpack, he has outgrown his shorts, and I wish we had all read more books.

I am not ready for school to start, I am not ready for summer to be over, and I am not ready for my daughter and two sons to come down that escalator. I am not ready to pierce their happy, anticipating balloon of home-at-last with my sharp and distressing news.

The hum at the foot of the escalator swells to applause and cheers. They’re home! My now sixth-grader leads the way, his feet barely touching the ground. He must have leapt over that short flight of moving steps, because suddenly he is in my arms, all bony elbows and shoulders, and I notice I don’t have to bend down to hug him.

“Hi Mom. I had a great time! What’s for dinner?”

I laugh and blink back tears of relief and delight, burying my news with its jagged edge under layers of bubbling chatter about his overnight trip and new Hebrew words and which day was the best day.

They have two big duffel bags each, and I wonder if they have come home with more than they left with.

Outside, I am distracted by a plane taking off loudly above us. When I look back down, everything has changed. The bags are scattered on the ground, lifeless and forgotten. Their tears and grief-stricken faces tell me everything.

“He was so old, guys,” I hear my husband say over and over, as he holds them close.

It’s been a week since our beloved dachshund, Pretzel, passed away. These three who were at camp have just heard the news. The air rushes out of their homecoming happiness with an audible pop.

He died an old and happy dog, but none of us were ready.

They are quiet on the drive home, each lost in memories of the silly little dog who was part of their whole lives. Their teen and tween imaginations did not allow for the possibility that their last goodbye was the last goodbye. They could not imagine he wouldn’t welcome them home with licks and a frantically wagging tail. That he wouldn’t sniff their dirty socks for clues of their adventures or curl himself into his signature pretzel right next to them on the couch.

I knew which one would feel this the most. He flew into my arms at the airport and now his mournful cries pull my heart apart, and I know his is in pieces, too. His eyes shine deep and brown with bewildered tears of hurt and confusion. He sobs on and off all day, caught between the happiness of home and the devastating finality of loss.

I want to help him hurt less. I haltingly assure him things I don’t know for sure: that Pretzel wasn’t in pain when he died, that his last thoughts were of his human brothers and sister, that he is so happy we are all together again at the end of this wandering summer. I want to believe these things myself.

But all I really know for sure is that we were not ready, and it is an unavoidable truth that hello and goodbye are always intertwined.

Pretzel: 3/16/2000 – 8/3/2015

This post originally appeared in my “In Real Life” column in the J. the Jewish News Weekly of Northern California.

This is a Finish the Sentence Friday post, where writers and bloggers gather together to share their versions of a completed sentence. This week’s prompt was, “What I’ll miss about summer…” Hosted by Kristi of Finding Ninee, and co-hosted by Lisa (this week’s sentence thinker-upper) of Flingo and Allie of The Latchkey Mom.

Deep in the heart of our noisy family is a pair of green-gray eyes that miss nothing, a smattering of freckles, and a strong, creative voice that can usually be heard belting out Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” or giggling loudly with her friends on FaceTime. A self-proclaimed artist, she loves to draw and write, and watch Rosanna Pansino’s “Nerdy Nummies” cooking show on YouTube.

Sage is the third of four kids, surrounded by brothers. She keeps the door of her bedroom firmly closed to all dogs and boys, except her dad, and when I peek inside I find her sitting at her small desk in the corner with a pen in her hand, her long, dark hair hiding her earnest concentration. I wish she’d tie her hair back.

Her drawings, poems and stories are full of the sugar and spice of 9-year-old girls, often with a small twist or a quietly shrewd observation that reminds me just how much those eyes are noticing.

At the end of the school year, when she was still 8, she presented me with a “How To” manual created as a class assignment:

How To Deal With Brothers by Sage Gilbert

Do you have a brother? Do you want to know how to deal with him? High School, Middle School, Little, Older, College, Baby? Older or little married or not married? Twin? Then this book is for you! I can help you handle difficult times with your brother.

Baby Brothers

With baby brothers, you want to help your mom, and play with them as much as you can because soon they won’t want to play with you.

Little Brothers

If they go to the same school as you, then it is okay to talk to them. Little brothers love you, but sometimes they are mean to you.

Twin Brothers

Twin brothers try and want to mock you. So if they do, ignore them. They also try to annoy you.

Older Brothers

If you go to the same school as your older brother do NOT talk to him! This is for all kinds of older brothers.

All Brothers

This is for all kinds of brothers. Turn on your audio so that you can record what they say to you. Then you can show your parents.

Middle School Brothers

You want Middle school brothers to notice you so annoy them. If that doesn’t work then hide from them or tap them repeatedly.

High School Brothers

High school brothers are normally very grumpy, so ignore them. You want high school brothers to notice you, so annoy them. And if that doesn’t work then tap them repeatedly or hide from them.

College Brothers

For College brothers, you barely ever see them, so my advice is to have good times with him while it lasts.

These guidelines have been published with permission of the author.

This is a Finish the Sentence Friday post, inspired by the prompt, “I Wish I Knew…” Hosted by Kristi from Finding Ninee, and co-hosted by Mardra of Mardra Sikora and Jill from Ripped Jeans & Bifocals.