He’s taken the car. Already. He’s been traveling in France, Belgium and Holland for two months, home for eight hours, and he’s leaving already.
Yup. That’s about right.
But he asked politely, as usual. And first he hauled out bags of trash, asked what else he could do to help, and gave me a hug. Smart kid.
And I was struck again by how handsome he is. As it hit me last night. He’s shaved off the little wisps of below-the-lip hair. He’s taller, and at 18, he’s filling out. He seems relaxed and happy. Europe always does him good. He loves it there.
“I think I want to live in Europe,” he said to me this summer. And again yesterday, on the phone, while sitting in a Midwestern city on a long layover.
And I get it.
Of course, he woke me this morning, unintentionally; I’m unused to noise in the house. I wandered out to the kitchen, and though I know the kid is on European time, I was astonished that he looked so refreshed. His connecting flight was delayed. It had taken nearly 24 hours of travel to get home.
But when he walked through the door just before one in the morning, I saw the young man he is becoming. Comfortable in his skin. At ease anywhere. He smiled and hugged me. I said hello to the friend who picked him up at the airport. I pointed to chocolate cake in the fridge, then I went to bed. And slept for eight hours – for the first time in many months.
There’s something to be said for knowing where your children are.
There’s also relief – and amusement – when it comes to his younger brother. The phone rang last night, and out tumbled the story of the cell phone loss, almost entertaining enough to undo my annoyance over the situation.
Note, I said almost. Still – he recounted a tale of birds that attacked while he was eating lunch on the green – so Hitchcock – and he took off to get away from the marauding creatures. He lost his phone in the process.
“So how is it going?” I ask.
“It’s hard as fuck,” he replies.
I chuckle. It’s college after all, freshman architecture jammed into a six-week program. He’s being pushed to perform, exactly as I expected.
“Are you enjoying it?” I ask.
“It’s cool stuff,” he says. “But I’m in studio from 9:30 a.m. until 10 at night three days a week. In fact, I can only talk for a few minutes. I have a ton to prepare for Monday. We have to present and defend our designs.”
“You’re having some fun, right?”
“Sure,” he says. “And I like being able to manage my own time. I like the flexibility. And it’s beautiful here.”
I realize we’re having a conversation. A give-and-take that is flowing. This is the head-in-the-clouds art kid. My mystery. The one who doesn’t talk, at least, not with me.
We say our goodbyes. It may be Saturday night, but he has work to do and he’s on it.
I wonder if he senses how much he is changing. Lost phone aside, this experience is ideal for him in so many ways. He’s being asked to do more than create; he’s required to articulate the purpose and function of a design, to defend his ideas in front of other students and working architects. He’s acquiring communication skills that are critical for success in any field, and in life.
This morning, my elder son breezes out, then in again, then asks for the car for the rest of the day. He wants to meet friends and go swimming. I laugh and say yes, kiss him on both cheeks, and find myself alone in the house with boxes still to organize, coffee to sip, memories to sift through. Those car keys are going to be gone a great deal in the coming weeks.
But I’m smiling. The kids are alright. They’re better than alright.
I am such a mom – As I read this, tears came to my eyes. It is the beauty of seeing kids spread their wings and fly – not just fly because they can but fly because they believe in themselves and that belief carries their wings.
My daughter ran a 5k last night (something she does as a “hobby” because she just loves to run. It was hot and steamy with a heat index of over 100 – but she had her water and off she went with 1868 people in the field. She started with a group and ended on her own, something she wouldn’t have done a year ago. She pushed herself; she loved it; and she fairly evaluated her run… not the best but she had fun.
And me, such the mamma, teared up at the start line, teared up when she finished, and teared again when she was noted. I love supporting her as she does the activities she loves, but what struck me about the evening was more her character. Sure, she pushed herself, she had a fairly good run considering heat etc, but when she finished the race (soaking wet and drained physically) she joined me at the sidelines and cheered and celebrated the finish of our friends.
For many parents, it is hard to let go… I celebrate letting go and watching kids fly. It is scary in a way and yet… to see them living their lives, making their choices, and evolving into themselves… pure magic for me.
Here’s to you mom and two great boys!
Oh Exception – You made me tear up, too! It’s hard to let go, maybe a little more so when you’re solo, but remembering our own need for independence makes it easier, don’t you think? And it’s pretty wonderful seeing them acquire the skills they need to do well in life, to take on challenges and explore. Yes, magic. You said it perfectly.
This made me smile. As much as we are strong, independent women, amazing how much our kids affect our sleep, our everything. Now you can actually enjoy the quiet home!
Yes – I can enjoy it for a bit, you’re so right! (Of course, now the all night parties start up again, until my 18-year old heads back to college. But at least I know where he is!) 🙂
Absolutely beautiful. Both stories. I am (and have been for most of 14 years) the single mom of three who are just now coming into this stage. My oldest and only son is serving our country in Iraq for just a few more weeks. My oldest daughter working and saving for college I cannot afford is working with disabled… my youngest already has her dreams and her college picked out after one more year of high school she is gone. I will be alone and it is harder than I thought and yet at the same time makes a mama so proud.
Love your stories. So great to hear stories of great kids in this day and age.
You must be counting the days until your son comes home. I can’t imagine how difficult that must be.
You’re right – we don’t hear enough of the good stories about kids – especially teens. Sure, they screw up (didn’t we?), but that’s how they learn. And so many kids are hard working and great kids. Even when we’ve raised them in complicated situations, and with plenty of challenges. Obviously, you know what it’s like dealing with everything on your own. Brutally hard at times. But kids learn from that, too. How to appreciate what’s important. How to work for what they want.
It sounds like you have so much to be proud of. And we’ll be dealing with that “one more year of high school” thing at the same time. (We’ll have to commiserate. It’s not going to be easy, I know.)
What a nice story-both of them actually. Sounds like you’ve managed to achieve that magical balance that allows your kids to be both independent but also on the level with you. Lucky you. You’ve done something right with your parenting-which is more than most of us can say most days!
Delia Lloyd
http://www.realdelia.com
I have great kids. I’m very fortunate in that respect, indeed.
“The kids are alright.” I love that. What a journey each of them has been on lately, BLW! And how amazing to see them becoming the men they’re meant to be and to see that when you had a decision to make about who they were and what would be good for them, you made a lot of right decisions (I’d say all right decisions but I know what it’s like being a parent!)
I think it is cool that your son can use a curse word to describe his day and you don’t admonish him. There are many beautiful epiphanies in this piece and it left me with the feeling that as a mom you are better than alright too.
By the way, Rudri – we believe in full use of language (multiple languages) in our house. My kids use words I use. So I just laugh at some of these expressions. (And the rest I have to look up in the Urban Dictionary!)
I’ve loved these check-ins through the summer on your sons and their forays into the world. They’ve acquired so much experience in so little time, it seems. Summers are built to offer that, I guess! Glad you have helping hands around again, even if only for a little while.
This isn’t the first time for my elder – he’s been off and out and about since the age of 12, on his own in academic programs out of state, or out of the country. But for his brother, it’s a first, and I hope I get a little more scoop when he gets home!
This is so sweet and nostalgic and bittersweet. I hope that I handle it all as gracefully as you do.
Wow. They are more than alright – they are starting to thrive! Remember this summer, Wolfie. Seems like it is a turning point, a summer of growth and self-discovery. Bittersweet, I’m sure.
“Hard as fuck.” Ha! Good for him!
I really hope I am able to give some appearance of the aplomb with which you’ve taken the boys’ forays into The World when time for my own brood to fly.
BLW, You’ve done well by your sons. What wonderful young men they have become. If I were there I’d give you a hug, so squeeze yourself and smile…you have every right to be both proud and happy! I love success stories! And this is a motherhood success story!
Thank you, Suzi and Natalie. What I’ve come to realize is that parenting is never done (if we’re lucky), it just evolves. So far so good…
And Lisa – I know how hard it is to see your kids worry about making a living. Of course, it’s legitimate worry – especially when they see their parents struggle, or when they feel their hopes are dashed after doing “everything they were supposed to” and wanting to make their way in the world. I hope you keep us posted on your daughter, though I’m sure, for now, you’re just happy to have her closer to home.
I know my elder son realizes he was lucky to have work this summer, even if not for pay. And they were happy with his performance, so a similar arrangement next summer might be possible. But what a sorry state of affairs in this country – that qualified and proven contributors (yes, like myself, and millions of others) are so challenged to find work for pay. And just as sorry a state, that our next generation is so discouraged as they go out on their own, with fresh ideas and all their enthusiasm and vigor.
“There’s something to be said for knowing where your children are.” Oh. My. Goodness! Truer words have never been said. College Girl/Grad is home from her 21-day trek through the southeast part of the country and the first two nights she was home, my head hit the pillow with such relief. She wants desperately to live and work in Florida, despite a decent job opportunity to actually make ends meet. I can feel the stress building already.