Not exactly the direct route… not my son’s, who traveled 16 hours to arrive home – which, under normal circumstances, should be four hours door to door.
Not exactly the direct route – my own – zooming past a highway exit I’ve taken at least a hundred times, bypassing the airport, circling back, hoping the Airport Loop would lead me to my destination despite new, inexplicably confusing signage as I eventually arrive curbside to pick up one Weary Son.
Next on the agenda: maternal mouth gaping.
No, not Offspring’s glazed expression, not his sickly pallor, no shaved head or purple hair. But the bright spot of red just above the eye consisting of one small, fresh gash.
There is a slightly blue-purple lid to match.
“Your eye,” I say, as we exchange hugs.
“Rogue plexiglass,” he replies. “Yesterday, maybe. Not sure. The days are running together. You know, day then night, then morning again and you’re right back into it like two days compacted into one. Lots of blood. Poured. Big mess. Want to see my shoes? Nice stain.”
This is my quiet kid.
I touch his face. Stubbly. He needs a shave.
“Are you okay?” I ask, gently.
“I’m fine,” he says, with the bravado one might expect of a 19-year old except, wait, now he is twenty.
Twenty.
“It’s a birthday scar,” he says, “a reminder of my birthday, a sign of my birthday, an indication, a promise that all things in the future will be bright, that I’ll never be injured or ill again, a good sign, a don’t worry about it Mom thing.”
He pauses just long enough for comedic effect and then: “But hey, wanna see my tattoo?”
I shoot him a glance.
“Kidding,” he says, and I sigh as he flops in the back seat. He chatters, and I wonder how long it’s been since he slept.
I don’t get lost on the way home. The sound of his voice is soothing. I’m grateful for friends who listen when I’m worried; it’s been a long night, and not just for him.
There’s a stop for shampoo and another after that because he really wants a particular take-out sandwich. Ten minutes later we’re in front of the house and he hesitates, tilting his head up.
“This is great,” he says, calmly. “I haven’t felt the sun on my face for a month. It’s been nothing but gray and cold.”
His bags are dropped by the front door and then his body is dropped onto his freshly made bed. He sets his food on the side table, begins to eat, opens his laptop to catch up with friends, and after that – he sleeps.
I take a deep breath. He’s here. He’s fine.
We’re fine.
I choose not to stress despite the fact that on the drive home he informs me that his return flight – make that multiple flights – require being at the airport at 4 a.m. later this week. It will be another crazy, convoluted journey, all to save a few bucks.
I walk outside in search of anything to temper the inexplicable surge of anxiety – it’s relief and anxiety, which is an odd mix.
There’s so much I no longer know about his life. So little I can do to assist in any real way. There is only this: Make his bed before he arrives, fill the fridge, say yes to a sandwich.
Let him catch some serious zzzzs.
The sky is a piercing shade of blue. The air is considerably warmer than it has been. My neighbor’s magnolia has opened and I wonder how I didn’t see it before, with its magnificent cascade of pale pink blossoms.
I glance down and there are more signs of Spring – one tiny periwinkle bloom, nestled in a tangle of vine and needles and leaves at the base of a tree.
I stop worrying about the Airport Loop to be confronted later in the week. I wonder if one of my son’s friends might take care of that drive. I focus on the small purple flower: this is a moment of pleasure, and my son, home, even briefly, is yet another.
Chloe Jeffreys says
It is so good when they are home and asleep under your own roof. There’s no feeling in the world quite like it, is there?
BigLittleWolf says
You’re right, Chloe. It’s the best… 🙂
jani says
My son is planning to fly his own body home this week! It’ll be Stressing for me for sure.
And then after the relief of having him under my roof he’ll take off and I’ll worry about him all the way back.
BigLittleWolf says
You said it, Jani! (But it is nice when they’re here for a bit, isn’t it? Though I imagine Empty Fridge Syndrome will hit quicker than I think… You?)
Curtis says
That’s the whole key to life isn’t it BLW: enjoy the fleeting moment and the small things. Magnolia in bloom….. I am really missing the South lately.
BigLittleWolf says
I’ve been inside and not feeling well for so long I missed the fact that Spring was beginning to arrive, Curtis! (It felt lovely to be standing outside with my son in the sun… and that magnolia? Quite the bonus.) Yes, the little moments. Not to mention – the end of the Bug from Hell and laryngitis!
Rudri Bhatt Patel @ Being Rudri says
Your words remind me to savor these days when my daughter is stlll young and looks to Momma for comfort.
Hope you enjoy this week with your sons.
labergerebasque says
She fights hard in her re-birth, but once Spring is here it so worth the wait…
The Magnolia? Beautiful, along with the expressed grace and gratefulness of a mama whose baby has come to visit home 🙂
Judith A. Ross says
To me, having everyone under the same roof —any roof — has always been the best gift of all. Unless something unforeseen happens, that won’t be the case for this family for at least another year. Enjoy!
Thekitchwitch says
Enjoy him! Sounds like he feels so comfortable with you, which is lovely!
Contemporary Troubadour says
That airport pickup after the long months in between home visits always feels so good, even when getting there is a strain. Sixteen hours though … my bones hurt thinking about that travel day.
Hope the Bug from Hell takes its leave soon! Two friends of mine in separate states had laryngitis + bug recently. It must be making the rounds.
Mutant Supermodel says
Yay! Glad he’s home
BigLittleWolf says
Me, too, Supermodel – thanks! (He’s quietly drawing… I’m quietly writing. H-E-A-V-E-N.) 🙂
Heather in Arles says
Happy for you.
PS. Lovely photos. 🙂
lisa says
Lots of blood. Poured. Big mess. Words no mother wants to hear out of the mouth of her child! I’m sure every emotion known to motherhood went coursing through your brain…ending with relief he was still alive and relatively okay. I absolutely love the magnolia blossoms! Spring is still being a bit elusive here.
BigLittleWolf says
Quite right, Lisa. And the blood stain on his white sneakers was lovely proof of his “entertaining” description…
Wishing you signs of Spring very soon!