That’s what they say, isn’t it? The illustrious “they” to whom I’m always referring but actually have no clue who “they” are. I think it’s maybe just the majority of humans who make up “they”, that would make the most sense (not to be confused with the pronouns they/them. Life in 2025 is complicated). Look, paragraph 1 and I’m already off on a completely irrelevant tangent. Welcome to my brain.

Back to my point about history repeating itself – I didn’t actually look up any factual history that has, in fact, repeated itself so I’m not quite driving my point home, but we do have some things in the Jones home that feels repetitive. I’ll start with me because, well, I’m kind of boring. You’ll recall I had a job. In a school. With children. Interesting, right? Well, historically, since the passing of the husband that inspired this whole writing down my thoughts and feelings for strangers on the Internet to judge, I’ve not been very good at showing up to jobs even after I’ve gotten them. This one, in a Kellie Jones Historical Change (henceforth “The Change” – I don’t know why I did that. I have no plans to refer to The Change anymore, after this – and this is what happens when I don’t write for months – just a stream of consciousness blabber fingers over here). Anyway, The Change, I went to the job, I worked the job, I hated the job, I tried to quit the job in the middle of the semester but ended up letting myself be talked into staying only to quit the job over the summer. (I just took a pause to pluck a whisker out of my chin due to another Change that’s trying to happen around here, in case you were wondering.) That’s right folks, we have a new record. 6 months I kept a job. Now, before you start thinking I’m a useless piece of shit, I don’t have to have a job if I don’t want. I have the rental properties and income and stuff so I’m just trying to keep my brain engaged in something other than driving children around and trash television. And sometimes trash books. That was not the job to accomplish keeping my brain engaged. It would be perfect for a retired person who has a passion for knitting and sitting. In a stroke of luck (using that ironically), I did get to take a 1/2 day twice a week to drive the oldest up to physical therapy in Virginia Beach. So that was nice. We’ll get back to him and his history in a moment.

I waffled back and forth a lot on the job, keeping it or quitting it. I had pretty heavily convinced myself to stay even though as every day of summer ticked by, I had a looming sense of dread in the pit of my stomach about returning to the job. As fate would have it, though, while living with my dread and trying to be a responsible adult, I get a message from an old co-worker on the Instagram. It started with just catching up on our lives and the lives of our children but then she asked me if I wanted to come back. I think she meant it as a joke but I jumped on it, said I’d love something part time and even more, I’d love something remote. Well, wouldn’t you know, not 5 minutes after I emailed a sympathy card to the school telling them sorry for their loss (me – this is a joke, I quit like a normal person but you know, I’m immature and stuff so thought this was funnier), my phone rings and low and behold, it was my old law firm wanting to work out a part time remote gig for little ol me! That was some divine intervention right there. And me going back to the RHGP, well, it’s happened on an occasion or 2, hence history repeating itself.

Now you may be wondering (probably not) why remote is enticing to me as I basically live like a hermit already so shouldn’t I get my ass in the workforce and maybe engage with a few other humans. And you’d be right, however, some more history is repeating itself, history where my life needs to be flexible and fluid. Jack had Tommy John surgery back in March after a complete UCL tear in December/January. Something like that. He had to move back home from Combine Academy, where he was minimally attending school and maximally playing the baseball, as is his dream. Surgery went great and he’s soaring through physical therapy. He got to take some time this summer and go spend 5 weeks in Europe with some friends he met at Combine. He visited Prague, Rome and Paris, ate new foods, met new people, tried new things, lived his best life. He also got to practice (to the extent his arm and his physical therapist would allow) with the men’s baseball league in Prague with some of his buddies.

As you may have guessed, Combine didn’t turn out quite the way we’d planned. With Jack’s injury, sending him back this fall wasn’t high on my list of things to do. I know my boy, though, and I know being in an environment surrounded by like minded athletes pushes him and keeps him motivated. He had a hard time moving back home this past February. He felt like a fish out of water. He had already left, and I’m not certain what kind of feelings that left him with, but from what I could tell, they weren’t good feelings. Not to say he didn’t still have his buddies from before, everything just felt different. He never quite found his groove again. One of his Czech buddies came and stayed with us for a month once Combine got out, then they went back to Czech together and then started their short European tour. They were still contemplating returning to Combine in the fall, Jack a sophomore and Denis a senior. Again, not my favorite idea but I was open to talking about it. They also found another academy, in South Carolina, called P27 that is a Baseball Academy. Similar to Combine, but less sports, wholly focused on the baseball team. Like they might show up in the fall and actually have real baseballs to practice with. Jack and Denis worked their tails off to be seen by the head coach at P27. Phone calls, emails, highlight reels of what they can do, text messages. They both did this on their own while in Europe, unbeknownst to me. Advocating for themselves, working hard, pushing each other to be better. I got Jack’s P27 acceptance phone call July 1, 2025. He still had 20 days left in Europe.

Here we go again. History repeating itself. Come September 2, 2025, I will say goodbye to my teenaged son again so that he can chase his dreams, become the athlete, and the man, that I know he is meant to be. I’m so dang proud of him, again, for chasing what he wants and doing everything in his power to make it happen. And I’m so dang heartbroken for myself because I don’t want to miss a minute of seeing him become who he’s meant to be. Hence, the need for a flexible and fluid lifestyle.

Colt, for his part, is excited to be an “only” child again. He got his favorite teacher for 5th grade and is extremely happy about that. He’s even offered to move after he finishes 5th grade with his favorite teacher. He’s not quite so emotional about sending our Jackie off again. Because he’s done it. He’s seen that life goes on. We adjust. We pivot.

History always repeats itself.