The Trip

It was almost 10:30 last night when my son got home from his guard tech job. He was excited that I had made spaghetti squash for him because, as usual, while he was out teaching and coaching he had forgotten to eat. He pulled out the ironing board and brought in his laundry from the dryer and dumped it all over the kitchen table. He’s on his phone. He’s on his computer. He’s charging three other devices(one of which is a charger…) I feel myself slipping into old-school Mom-mode. “No, no!” a voice cries in my mind, “Don’t do it!” My mouth refuses to listen.

“So how close are you to being packed?”

Ah crap. I’ve done it. It’s obvious that he is nowhere near done being packed and ready to go on his trip tomorrow(today, now…) He gives me A Look. I give him credit though, it isn’t The Look, the one that really sets me off. Some tiny bit of reason finds a way to prevail. I gather up the remains of my art journal supplies and put them away. I rinse out my tea mug and set it out to dry for tomorrow’s first life-giving caffeine infusion. I give him a hug good night, and whisper, “Good luck.”

Did I mention that he has a super early flight this morning?

I was having a lovely dream about something or other, when I startled awake to the sound of my son dragging a suitcase down the hallway. I grab my robe and trudge down the stairs after him. I resist the urge to make him double check that he’s packed everything he needs. He’s calm and remarkably cheerful for someone who probably hasn’t had any sleep. I envy his youth and resiliency right now. I just don’t function on small amounts of sleep, I never have. I breathe a silent “Thank you.” to his friend who is picking him up and taking him to the airport so I don’t have to.

His ride is here. He gives me a hug, I wish him a safe trip. He tells me he will text me when he lands. He will probably forget.

I hear the garage door closing. I pop onto Facebook to wish him and his group a safe trip and success at their competition in Dayton.

I smile as I think about how the times change. This would have been a completely different scenario with my parents. I close my laptop, shut off the lights and head back upstairs.

Should have left a light on somewhere, because I trip over his dog, sprawled next to my bed.

Cleo know how this goes. She grumbles a little, so do I and we both go back to sleep.

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “The Trip

  1. I relate to this in so many ways, my daughter recently moved to Washington DC and it was so difficult letting her prepare everything on her own, but she is doing fine, as I am sure your son is doing.
    Hugs,
    Julia

    • Thanks Julia. He’s a lot more on top of things than I was at this age. I’m learning to trust that he’s got it under control…step by small step :>)
      Good luck to you, and your daughter!

    • Thanks for your comment Debbie. I’m glad I could give you a grin! I know I’m not alone, this is a process all mama’s go through. I’m working to find the humor in it, savor the moment of it, and allow this mother/son relationship to evolve.

  2. Stopping by to say hi, (Blog-Along) As I read your post I was thinking how I could have written it. I’m a mom of 5. Three of my kids are over 20, and no longer live home, but I still try to “mama” them every chance I get. My younger 2 are 17 & 14 so I’m not completely empty yet, but feel empty enough. My oldest daughter is 27 and just moved into a new house this past weekend, as she is expecting baby # 2 and needed a larger home. I not being able to help myself, sent her home tonight with 4 bags of groceries from my kitchen to help her stock her new house. I hope your son has safe travels. Out of curiosity, did he remember to text you when he arrived at his destination?? (((HUGS)))

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s