It Wasn’t Complicated After All

My son is spending Christmas away for the first time.
Twenty-nine years of shared rituals, and now a quiet change.

I didn’t have an issue with him going. That part felt clean.

What hurt was something else.

I wasn’t held in mind.

Plans were made — with friends, with travel, with what came next — and somehow I wasn’t part of the orientation. When dates were offered later, they landed flat. January 25 didn’t feel like a celebration. It felt like a placeholder.

The meaning that came immediately was familiar:
I don’t matter. I’m not a priority.