It all may be okay.
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Hoping

The other day I was standing in the kitchen, thinking about something. Just thinking, but it was big thinking. As I stood there, holding a glass of water and staring at one of the pendant lights hanging over the counter, Max threw the front door open and entered. He never just comes home. It's more like he abandons the real world with a flourish and a scattering of backpack, shoes, and papers. 

He came thumping into the kitchen, dropping more detritus on the counter. 

"Hey, Mom," he said, then paused to take a second look. "You okay?" I nodded blankly, then roused myself and said, "Yup. I'm fine."

Max shook his head. "No you're not." He grabbed a bunch of grapes, then moved in to wrap a hug around me. "Love you, Mama."

And then he was gone.

You know, Max is 16. That's a scary age for the calmest and most thoughtful of kids. Max is not the calmest or most thoughtful of kids. He downright terrifies me sometimes. I'm not sure if he's going to grow up to be a homeless criminal or worse, the president. 

But there are moments like this when I see the outline of the man he almost is. And whatever else is true, if he grows to be someone who notices the people around him, cares about them, but doesn't let their burdens weigh him down, well.

I think he might be just fine. 

Comments

Trinalambert.wordpress.com

You know I have a son like that. And he really does have a very good heart and sees way more than most guys do--even those guys who are calm. You are a lucky mother!

c

:)
nice to read you again.

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