The Remains of the Day

 Sometimes you're lucky just to make it to the end of the day.

I have a lot of thoughts, and I'm trying to figure out what I should say.  A lot of tears lately; sometimes it's random, sometimes it's brought on by elder's current difficulties (I legit broke down listening in to his teleconference with the transition coordinator--his voice is a foghorn, and I could hear him blowing smoke from two rooms and one flight up and away).  He knows all the right things to say, then he doesn't follow through.

"He's not you," hubby reminded me last night. "Neither kid is you."

He's talking about the fact that I was out on my own at 20. I met him, and then dragged him along into adulthood with me. 

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. 

Elder is now the same age I was when I started grad school. If I'm honest, grad school was something to do while I waited for my then boyfriend to get his degree.  Don't get me wrong; I had my sights set on teaching college level. I loved grad school. And the whole academia thing seemed like the right road, because that was what he planned to do. We'd do it together. It would be fun. 

It didn't *quite* work out like that.

I had something to focus me during that time, and that's what kept the ball moving forward.

Elder lacks the same impetus.

Thus, the problem. 

And he's dragging his brother down; I just checked his grades, and he's in trouble in two of his classes.  Senior slide?  Or just watching big brother on his bullshit?  I had to do a little butt kicking to get him to look at his classwork and get back on track. 

He told me not to worry.

Meh.

Which reminds me, I have to check on something he promised to do. May as well make sure he gets that done while he's still up. It's not like he's doing anything important....