I sit back, take a deep breath and turn the page on a new chapter.

Yesterday I stood in a crowded, wood paneled room lined with carved wooden seals of the various branches of military and watched as my youngest son raised his arm and swore an oath to become a soldier in the United States Army. His dad was also there and so was his brand new wife. It was not only the final step in a month of huge steps, it was the culmination of a chapter in Derek's and my lives and the beginning of a whole, brand new book for Colt and Michelle.

In the space of ten days, Colt and Michelle were married and will now be separated for at least 2 1/2 months while Colt completes boot camp. As for Derek and I, we are now empty nesters. Don't get me wrong. We are willing to embrace our empty nest. We've been telling Colt for the last couple of years that we can't miss him if he isn't gone.

To mothers everywhere, don't get the mistaken impression that I don't want him around. Colt is incredibly easy going and has always been pleasant to have around. I kind of have a soft spot for him because he has always been comfortable hugging me and telling me he loves me. Even in high school, he would invite to to go to a movie with him. I love having him around. Well, HIM, not his room. His room is not pleasant at all. In fact, it's a little scary. What is important here is that it is our job to miss him. He's all grown up. We don't get to keep him. it wouldn't be good for him. What I saw in him for a long time, was someone getting increasingly restless. If we keep them too long, they don't grow (and they can get spoiled and start to smell). So we worked on kicking him to the curb, in the nicest possible way.

In the end, he kicked himself to the curb, or at least changed streets when he and Michelle announced that they were engaged! Michelle is a very sweet girl that he's known for a couple of years. So, the past few months have been a whirlwind of surgery, Christmas, and wedding plans. I'm eternally grateful that I was the mother of the groom. So much easier! The only real challenge with the wedding preparations, was getting the bride and groom to make a decision on ANYTHING!

So time flew by and the wedding day approached. As with any wedding, or should I say, more accurately, any Hester wedding, there has to be at least one catastrophe on or before the day. Just to keep things interesting, and to give us stories to tell for years to come.

A week before the wedding, I was getting into the back seat of our SUV and somehow whacked my head on the door frame. Within ten minutes I was throwing up. The next day, Colt had to take me to the emergency room for a cat scan, where thankfully, I was declared to have no fractures, just a concussion. This incident is not wildly relevant to the wedding except for the part where I had a raging headache and a very low tolerance for...we...everything. Family started arriving mid week. Samantha and Mark arrived with their girls on Wednesday. Colt's best man, a very pretty blond woman named Christine, arrived Thursday at 10:00 pm from Las Vegas, and Derek's parents and sister were scheduled to arrive the same night at 1`1:30 pm. As they were whisking their way across the country, Chi and Heather were heading over to our house. When they arrived it was immediately evident that Chi was not feeling well. Heather reported that he had actually called in sick to work the night before because of terrible abdominal pain. The symptoms she described sounded suspiciously like appendicitis and after some intense co-ercing, Chi's friend Brandon drove him to the emergency room while Heather stayed at our house with their kids. Sure enough, within a short time, Chi was calling to say that he was being whisked off to surgery for an emergency appendectomy. This was VERY late Thursday night. The wedding was Saturday.

Having survived Friday without incident, we headed into Saturday. Much to my amazement, Chi actually insisted on donning his tux and standing with his brother at the wedding as Colt's appointed "Patron of Honor"...duly titled by the same confused groom who had a woman as his best man.

The wedding was held in a tiny historical church in Old Bellevue, It's actually very quaint, with lots of stained glass and honey hued wood. Fortunately the ceremony was relatively short, as part of the churches quaint and rustic charm is its lack of a restroom. Apparently the city has solved this particular problem by having a porta potty out behind the church, unfortunately, as the temperature was in the twenties, we were informed that it was frozen and would not be usable.

As preparations for the wedding began, a kind of ordered chaos filled the building. Bridesmaids primped, the bride's parents cried, pictures were taken. Did I mention that we were the photographers? Once Michelle was ready, she had to go out the side door and go back around to the front door to enter. The flower girls (my two oldest, stunningly adorable granddaughters) performed flawlessly, dropping flower petals down the aisle as they entered. The only hitch was that they seemed to be having a fabulous time and were hesitant to continue over to their seats, instead electing to twirl for the congregation a couple of times before being enticed to their seats by their mothers with (I suspect) gummy bears.

Next came the ring bearers (Michelle's three year old twin nephews), who did not actually bear any rings, but were, in fact, carried up the aisle, one under each arm, by a cousin of the bride.

The rest of the wedding party entered and the ceremony began. It was lovely, in spite of Chi looking like he might pass out at any moment. The Bishop spoke, then Samantha sang a song (beautifully I might add). Then the Bishop had them exchange their vows. That all went smoothly, but I was a little surprised that when they went to exchange the rings they each had a little slip of paper, which they both dropped, from which they read the sentence and a half required to complete the transaction. I know for a fact that Colt can recite the lyrics to several hundred songs and will come home from a movie and retell the entire story line, quoting entire scenes verbatim, but apparently could not remember that simple line and a half. The important thing though, was that they laughed and they smiled and they were obviously completely in love. Once the ceremony was complete, the guests were invited to congregate outside with bubbles as the couple left the church. I was a little fearful that there might be injuries caused by frozen bubbles smacking guests on the head, but all went well.

Between the wedding and the reception, we took the wedding party to the Joslyn museum for photographs. The museum is beautiful and this seemed like an excellent alternative to the whole wedding party being treated for frostbite and hypothermia, which were very real possibilities if we tried doing the shoot outdoors.

Upon our arrival at the reception, we were informed that the chef had gotten the time wrong and somehow thought that in spite of the fact that the reception started at 5:00, he didn't need to have the food ready until 6:30. After a run in with an angry mother of the bride, he hustled and provided what was essentially, roast beef tartar at 6:00. The guests were very patient! After that, things went pretty well, other than the mother of the groom (me) discovering than an outrageous headache, the stress of shooting the wedding and trying to participate as a guest, and a few minor run ins with persons unnamed, had stretched me a bit too thin. All you had to do was look at me and I was likely to burst into tears. Just ask Derek.

Finally, the bride and groom headed to their hotel and we headed home. I sat on the couch and realized that our last child had just gotten married. Children are always your children, no matter how old or how married they are, but at some point, they aren't your responsibility anymore. As Derek is so fond of saying, "We don't get a vote". So all you can do is continue to Love them and their spouses and their children and be their cheerleaders and be there to pick them up when they fall, IF they ask for your help. They are forever and always your children, but they are also adults with their own families and their own lives. I was a little sad.

The week flew by and suddenly we found ourselves in that crowded little room surrounded by other parents and spouses, while a handful of young men and one women took their oath of service. At times I cried, just a little, but mostly I thought how great it was to see Colt starting his own adventure. It made me think of myself, nearly thirty years ago, standing and watching as Derek took that same oath. A time he will never forget mostly because I was wearing neon yellow overalls and a bright striped shirt (cut me some slack, it was the 80's).

I know how Michelle must have felt as they took the recruits away and she faced a couple of months on her own, but i also remember the amazing adventure that began all those years ago for us. The places that we lived, the fun that we had, the trials that we faced, raising our kids in various countries and various parts of the states. It has been an amazing adventure. Now it's time for a new adventure, both for Colt and Michelle, and for Derek and I. It feels a little like we are newlyweds again, only this time we get to rediscover each other, play with Grand kids and enjoy the adults that our children have become.

I think this will be a very good adventure.

My brain dissolves and I sink into an abyss of lethargy

I don't feel well. At all. I would feel better if I were deathly ill and on life support. This infection induced lethargy is so much worse than being actively sick. If I was suffering from Dengue Fever or Bubonic Plague I wouldn't feel like I was just being lazy. I would feel justified in lazing around on the couch all day. I simply do not do inactivity well. I have felt this way all week. Everything is too much of an effort except for one thing. It turns out that the perfect antibiotic for my malaise is...grandchildren. Yesterday I spent the day struggling to make a sandwich to say nothing of actually getting anything done. Then my daughter called and my fuzzy brain brightened as my granddaughter Eden 'read' a book to me over the phone. After their phone call, I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to be content that I had actually gotten some scanning done (even though the housework remained unfinished). Then the doorbell rang and as I struggled to get off the couch I heard tiny footsteps stomping across the hardwood floor upstairs. My step quickened slightly as I struggled up the basement steps to the main floor and as I hit the top of the stairs, a little pink and purple rocket hurtled towards me. My granddaughter, Julia, beamed up at me and I felt a little more of my lethargy evaporate. The sight of a smiling little 10 mo. old C.J. sealed the deal and for the next few hours I forgot that I was sick. I'd barely gotten my bed made in the morning but I was able to spend at least 15 minutes bouncing Julia up and down as I sat in an arm chair and pumped my legs up and down with Julia standing on my feet and squealing with glee, shaking her head from side to side to deliberately heighten her spatial disorientation. I tickled and roared and laughed, forgetting that my whole body hurt. This same phenomenon occurs every time Eden calls and I hear her sweet little voice chirping "Hi Nana! I love you!", or Autumns voice in the background chanting "Nana, Nana, Nana, Nana". I've known a number of women who insist that their grandchildren call them by their first name because they don't want to feel old. It is a common mis-belief that grandchildren are a sign that we have reached our golden years. I would refute that philosophy and say that grandchildren have a nearly magical ability to re-infuse you with energy and enthusiasm and the sound of little voices bellowing for Nana invigorates me and makes me feel ten years younger, so I may not feel up to doing the dishes, but bring on the grand kids and I can move mountains!

Apparently, I DON'T get to run the universe...

It has occurred to me in recent months that life does not always happen exactly as we would like it to, and there is not much we can do about that short of beating our chests and screaming "why me"?, which to me seems singularly unhelpful. Given the circumstances of my own life, what with parents dying, volcano's erupting, children's illnesses, a bad back, yoyo dieting and a multitude of other personal and natural disasters, one would have to conclude that I am profoundly obtuse not to have noticed this sooner.

This idea of circumstances being beyond our control is an extremely vexing concept for someone who is compelled to try and orchestrate every moment of her life and I...I mean, they...yes...they must find it quite difficult to accept. As for me (because I'm not "they"), if I could choose it to be so, my life would be set to a truly epic soundtrack (and in my head it already is). I would have no physical trials and all of my relationships would go perfectly. My perfect life would be filled with masses of witty repartee and perfect weather (my definition of perfect, of course). Fascinating friends and loving family would abound, and I would fly to far off, exotic locations at the drop of a hat. On Friday date night, Derek and I would decide to whisk off to India for the weekend in search of some really exceptional Tikka Masala and Pompodoms, and over the Easter holiday, we would jet down to South America to photograph Mayan ruins for National Geographic. Oh, and I would also be younger, thinner and better looking.

It is a lucky happenstance that I actually have many of those things in my life now (aside from the younger, thinner, better looking thing). I am surrounded by intelligent and witty people who care about me and whom I adore. I have traveled the world extensively (and yet always seem to want to see more) and done and seen some pretty fabulous things. I have amazing children, adorable grandchildren, a truly exceptional husband, a beautiful home and great friends, and yet I have not mastered the ability to control all of the events in my life. For instance, if I WERE in control, my bust line would not have gone south for the winter and crows would not have built nests at the corner of my eyes and stomped their stupid little crow's feet all over them. If I were in control, on cold mornings it would not take Derek's helping hand and a significant amount of Motrin to get me out of bed in the morning. There are so many things that would be different if I were in control. For instance, it is my belief that if nations and governments would just ask me for my opinion, things would even run smoother on a global scale.

Then it occurs to me what a good thing it is that I am NOT in control, because I suspect that if I were, I would muck things up royally. Instead, I have discovered that being in control of our fate is not what is important. Don't get me wrong. I agree with that whole master of my own destiny thing for the most part. I can choose an education, I can choose a career, I can choose my spouse, with a little plastic surgery, I could even choose a different nose or bigger lips...by the way...yuck. I'm not talking about the control we have over OUR decisions. I'm talking about the control that we DON'T have over other people's decisions. The real trick in getting by in this life is what we do with the hand that is dealt us. I don't think that God sits up on some glistening throne thinking "You know, just for kicks I'm going to really mess up so-and-so's life today". I suspect he is more likely thinking, "I can't wait to see what imaginative and inventive solution so-and-so will come up with to solve THIS little conundrum"!

Our God is not like mythological Gods of Ancient Greece and Rome. He is not motivated by malice, jealousy or arrogance. Whoever thought those guys up had issues and should have sought out a few counseling sessions with Plato or Aristotle, or Dr. Phil.

No, our God is the cleverest of parents. He sees when we will not learn a lesson simply by being told. He knows just when to twist our knickers into just enough of a bunch to get us riled into taking control of OUR actions, and more importantly, our REactions vs. trying to control things that are simply beyond our control.

So, while my life does not always go in the exact direction that I think it should, I have found that if I work within certain parameters, it will always go in the direction that is best for me, whether I like it or not. Thank Heaven (literally) for the little trials and hiccups that are sent our way every day. Life really would be mind numbingly boring without them.