Rx: family and wooly things

Right after we buried Smoky, yesterday, I got that phone call that all parents dread. It’s actually the second time I’ve gotten such a call and from the same child, who’s 20 now. He had totaled his car and spent the night in the ER getting glass dug out of everywhere.

His physical safety established as a non-issue (after I finished cleaning up what the ER missed), the family moved on to the next task of remembering what all the legal & financial details are that need to be seen to. And after letting him nap a bit in the safety of his own bed, Hubby and I had a little ‘meeting’ with him. Those of you with teens or young adult children know the meeting of which I speak.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was an odd mix of angst and sentiment. He had the news of Smoky’s crossing over to accept, on top of his worry about his future without transportation. We live in Tennessee, and in a part of the county where mass transit ain’t an option. The rest of the day, he hung out with his parents like he used to when he was little. We watched favorite movies, and I had his company and some yummy Romney wool to spin up on the drop spindle . . . those two things turned out to be exactly what this Mommy needed (despite my original plans for the day and for Ulduar). Better therapy than even a milkyway.

He wasn’t the only one hurting, and the early 20s ain’t just awkward for the child. It’s awkward for us parents too, and I didn’t realize how big an ache I had for my baby’s company until yesterday. You know it intellectually, but you squash it down with thoughts like, “He’s grown now, and needs his space, and has his own things to do . . . “ It was like he was 10 again, and perfectly natural to have him for the whole day. Unlike recent days in which he just passes through on his way to somewhere else and somebody else.

So yeah, family and soft wooly things all together in our den were more effective than all the things we discussed in our ‘meeting.’ We all feel better this morning.