My Favorite Domer (my son) drove down from the Land of the North to celebrate Thanksgiving with us in Central Illinois.
He thought it would be warmer.
He was wrong.
What’s important is, we were together. To rest. And renew.
And remind ourselves why every day really should be Thanksgiving.
Because we have so much to be thankful for.
Bet you didn’t catch that I said Domer drove down. That’s important, you know.
When he was in college, he didn’t want a car. His closest friends didn’t have one. Those who did had to park out in the boonies, where periodically there would be a rash of tire-slittings, theft, mischief.
Nothing Domer wanted to bother with.
So he sold the car he had in high school and banked the money for the day when he’d get another set of wheels.
I like how practical he is about stuff like that.
When he was in college, because he didn’t have a car, I drove to South Bend to pick him up, helped him finish packing, load the car, and drove home (usually as he slept the peaceful slumber of the innocents). When vacation was over, I did it all in reverse, grateful when he spelled me off with a couple hours of driving.
That didn’t happen this time. He did the packing. And the loading. And the driving.
Half of me — okay, maybe more than half! — misses the old days.
I miss being needed. I miss the extra “together-time.”
The certainty that he’s home and back, safe and secure, without incident.
All I could do this time was help him load his car, make sure his phone was charged and he had spending money.
That, and pray.
Because today he’s driving back to the Land of the North. Back to his apartment and job. His new life.
And I’m trying hard not to hover. To fret.
Though I admit to pacing the floor a little and jumping on the phone when it rings.
And I know I won’t breathe until I learn he’s safely back.
Just part of being a parent, huh?