Let's start with the fact that I wasn't getting enough sleep.
An inveterate self-medicator, I was loading myself up with every nontoxic sleep-inducing agent I could think of: a pair of chlorpheniramine maleate antihistamine tablets, four valerian capsules, a couple of generic acetaminophens, four melatonin pills.
Enough to sedate a small bison, and I was still popping up like a toaster on a timer several times a night, agitating my wife and frightening the baby, whose bed is still in our room. I'd get up to stay at 6:30am, stumble into the bathroom, look in the mirror and see this baggy-eyed MIDDLE-AGED man.
There I've said it: I've never admitted that I am middle-aged before, even to my wife who is 33. I’ve just kept pushing the boundaries of "young man" ever further until all of a sudden I turned 44 and looked my age or worse in the morning when I didn't sleep very well, which was much of the time.
I tried to figure out why I was so agitated at night when my mind was left to its own devices, but other than the usual stuff that has never bothered me much - I have to make more money, I have to make more money - I wasn’t able to come up with anything.
Then, the other day I was driving back from Akron to the office after taping my radio show, feeling a little tired and spacey but generally okay. I was heading east on the Turnpike, a little one-exit jaunt, when all of a sudden, to my utter disbelief and mortification I found myself bawling my eyes out - not a discreet movie theater dribble out the corner of one eye, but a full-on blubbering torrent.
I could barely see the road. I looked in the rearview mirror of my manly Ford truck, and some red-eyed horror creature stared back at me. I simply could not stop crying.
This was bizarre and painful and cramped my upper abdominals, causing me to bend forward, making it VERY difficult to see the road and steer the truck at 65 mph. I gave up and pulled over.
Then, sitting on the side of the Turnpike, weeping like a little girl, it fell on me like a house: I'm going to miss MY little girl, or rather, my now big girl.
My older daughter is 18 and graduated from high school in June. She is going away soon to Americorps for a year before she starts college. She has always been around, or just barely out of reach, since I was a very young and foolish 25 year-old.
And now she is going away, really going away, and it will never be the same again - no matter what. She will go away to Americorps, be based in Washington DC, and serve her fellow man for a year. I will barely see her.
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