He is home.  My baby boy is home at last.  He has spent three nights sleeping here, under our roof. He has told us how happy he is to be here at home, after a long and emotionally stressful freshman year.  He has had dinner with us, has cooked dinner for us, chatted, laughed, shared his college experiences with us.  He has enjoyed three days of forced relaxation (he wasn’t insured to drive just yet).   He has hugged and smiled and watched the Bruins with us.

But now….three days into his summer break, he has sort of had enough.  Oh, of course, being the sweet and gentle soul that he is, he hasn’t come right out and said “Let me out of here!”, but his gentle movements have made it clear that those are his thoughts. Tonight (Friday of the week when he came home on Tuesday), he cooked dinner, fixed the screen door, walked the dogs and vacuumed.  Have you ever heard a more poignant or thoughtful plea for freedom?

And so I filled my car with gas, came home to eat dinner with him, hugged him tight and sent him on his way with my keys in his hand.

He is here, but not really.   He has one foot out the door, even as he eats/sleeps and lives here in our house.  He is a visitor in our home, not a resident.

How sad for us!  How wonderful and freeing and true for him!  We won’t ever hold him back or make him sleep here or force him to sit in our living room making lame conversation.   But what is equally true, we won’t ever again sit quietly with him in our arms, reading the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy or talking about the stresses of the day.  We won’t ever again plan a nice family vacation with all five of us in attendance. 

And so I tell myself, “Be careful!”   I tell myself that this is a little dream, not my reality.  This summer will be a small reprieve from that empty, lonely house.  

Be careful, Mom.  They are visiting now, but soon they will be gone.