“You’re going where?” I ask.
“Brussels, Paris, then Rennes and maybe Brest,” he says.
It’s my 18-year old on the phone from Europe. My son the factory worker, my son the office worker, my son the engineer-in-training, with a touch of mad scientist thrown in. Curious about everything. Vibrant and adventurous. My son, calling last evening, to give me a weekend update. Just to talk.
“They were happy with you?”
“I think so,” he says. “And I’ve worked the money so I can travel through France, then to Amsterdam, then Belgium after that, for the music festival.”
I sit down.
“Wow,” I say.
His internship is done and it went well. I’m thrilled for him. And impressed that he’s managed his money sufficiently to do this. I’m also a little envious, sitting in my steamy house, leaning against a heating pad. Eighteen is a lovely age. Everything is possible. The body works like the proverbial well-oiled machine. Adventure is everywhere. A dollar (or in this case, a Euro) can be stretched with remarkable elasticity.
“Remind me when you’re flying home?”
He gives me the date. I calculate the number of weeks until he returns, thinking about the air conditioning on the fritz, with temperatures consistently in the 90s. I’m counting my blessings that I found a small fan in the back of my closet.
“So how are you?” I ask.
“Great,” he says, telling me about the books he’s reading, how the guys in the office complimented him on his French, how much he’s looking forward to Amsterdam.
“Have you talked to your brother?”
“No.”
“I haven’t heard from him.”
A few hours later I reach my 17-year old, get a “sorry Mom” for not calling (we’d agreed to once a week), and then, it’s a request for money. He’s utterly cashless, but managed to pool change with another student so they could do a few loads of wash. I marvel at the fact that all roads with my sons seem to lead to laundry. And Murphy’s on the loose again; no campus ATM will accept his card.
“So how is it going?” I ask.
“It’s a ton of work, but rewarding. And I’m meeting interesting people.”
“Great,” I say.
He tells me about design studio that has run until 10 pm, the first project that had to be completed in three days, how they sited a building on a hill, how he expects the work will get even harder, that he’s doing gesture drawings at a rapid rate. He’s planning to see fireworks in the park with a new friend. A girl.
Then I ask about the food.
“It sucks,” he says.
I smile. My maternal brain is churning as I listen. The items he needs.
“Send quarters for the washer and dryer,” he says. “And my diabolo.”
I sigh, trying to remember where his juggling gizmo might be, and as we’re talking, I find it beneath an orange hat, and the sticks, under the cushion of a big red chair. I tell him I’ll get something in the mail as soon as I can, and we say our goodbyes.
My 18-year old is in France, or Belgium, or Holland, or on a train – somewhere in Europe. Content.
My 17-year old is eight states away and needs quarters and a juggling device, and likely, some food. So I do my job, laughing: I dig around for quarters, search in the pantry for cookies and crackers, and start to pack a box. I’m just happy to have my weekend update. And to know where my children are, sort of.
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I can’t even imagine. And one of these days, you’ll remind me of that, I’m sure!
My elder has been going off on his own since the age of 12. For my younger, this is the first time. It’s harder. 🙂
All I could think of as I heard of your oldest’s plans was the Tour de France. I am sure he is enjoying his time in Europe.
I hope Mom is enjoying her time here.
🙂 If he had his bicycle with him, I bet he’d really love being in the vicinity during the Tour de France! (The mom is busy on kid-household infrastructure. Come on, Nicki – is a single mother ever NOT busy? But I’m doing less cooking and less laundry. Gotta love that!!!)
Oh my. I’m closer to this than I probably want to admit. Yesterday brought a “car discussion” with my daughter. They do go their own way, don’t they? And they still need to do laundry. The comforts a mom can offer. I do love to bring comfort. You are sending yours in the mail and over the phone.
I see these clouds fast gathering on the horizon, so thanks for the dispatches. All this giving of what we might like but are not exactly getting can be trying, but if there’s anything to karma, I will simply wish that your generous and spot-on mothering comes back to you in kind and in great fun and adventure (and health and well-being).
BLW, I liked reading this vignette about your children. I am not there yet as my daughter is still very young.
In your post, I see the changing faces of motherhood and how it continually evolves as your children get older.
And it makes me so nostalgic, Rudri. Seeing how grown up they are (and sometimes aren’t!) – and coming across photos of them just a few years ago, as I clean and organize. They love with no barriers, no judgment, and so openly when they’re little. That changes as they become teens. And we have to let it. But it’s hard.
BLW – I try to be not busy but it doesn’t work. If I am at home, there is always something that needs to be done. You are right!
I’m wistful. Wistful because I didn’t take the time to do these things when I’m young. I hope to encourage my boys to do it. God willing they will!
But do you know what REALLY struck me as I read your post, that he told you about the book he was reading. I LOVE that. How did you instill that? I need all the secrets you can give me, because to me that’s amazing.
The book thing, Christine? The irony – my younger son taught himself to read when he was tiny. He didn’t talk much, but he was an advanced reader, all on his own, and school actually damaged that over the years with the insistence that “novel reading” be what they wanted the kids to read. It’s only been in the past few years that reading is of interest to him again. As for my elder, he talked early (and about everything), and learned to read at the usual time, and somehow, in middle school years, just loved it. He still loves it. And he even takes suggestions from me – which he asks for. But that’s all HIM – who he is, who he has always been. Yes, both kids have grown up surrounded by art and books, but what they love comes from who they are. I’ve taken cues from them, and then encouraged and made certain things a priority.
One thing I did insist on – was time speaking another language at home, in our case French and an additional language (that I really don’t speak much of) when they were little. But the French I was able to keep up. My elder took to it with a passion (and is learning his 3rd and 4th languages now, at 18). My younger follows, but it isn’t a passion for him. Still, I insist some of the time (to his annoyance), and believe it is important.
If I had any well-targeted intuition at all – it was to encourage many things I loved, and then follow their lead – and do whatever it took to give them the opportunities to develop those interests – literature, language, photography, travel, art, music.
But the gifts and desire are theirs. I got very very lucky as a parent.
God, you must be so proud of them! What an adventure they’re having. And funny how they all need different things from us at different times.
I’m surrounded this summer. I keep reminding myself this may be the last one forever.
And I think you were so smart to have a second language at home.
Oh I love all the you in this. The you reflected in your children. The going places, being here, being there, rushing at life and then pulling it in, dragging it out, holding on to it.
These stories about YOU and your boys are my absolute favorite. I know, I know, I’m a sucker for the personal. Oh well. It brings me closer to you and deeper into your world, your head, and that is a beautiful thing…because you’ve got a beautiful mind.
I just talked to my younger son a few minutes ago. I told him quarters, cookies, crackers, and juggling opportunities were boxed up and sent off this morning. I lingered over the task. (The UPS Store was air-conditioned.) 🙂
Ah Sarah. We pour everything we have into teaching them to leave us. The job is bittersweet. But my kid’s “thanks, Mom” on the phone – nothing but sweet.
All roads lead to laundry, indeed! Funny! What wonderful opportunities both of them have had this summer!
I know exactly how you feel! College Girl Grad is trekking through Florida in a job opportunity quest. A blonde, 22-year-old trekking alone. With an outdated cell phone that doesn’t have a car charger. I may write what happened to her the second night she was there in a post, but for now, I’m just too busy worrying. Some phenomenally positive things have happened in the job search, but I’m still unsettled.
Oh Lisa. I can feel your worry and so empathize. Especially with a girl. But it’s amazing how resourceful our kids really are. I’ve been astounded, as I talk to my 18-year old in Europe. He just “makes it work,” whatever it is. And now that I’ve mailed a heap of quarters (and cookies) to my younger son, and let him know, he sounded pleased. The worry really never stops though, does it. But hey – it’s good for the economy. It keeps Clairol in business. Gray hair? What gray hair?