Milestones
July/02/2007 Filed in: Cindy's
Musings
Seems this is not a widely known fact, but summers in Colorado are hot. And I do mean hot. Yesterday it was 98 degrees, today it peaked at 99, and tomorrow doesn't look much better. I've been spending my time, alternately melting and sweating like some overexerted, red-faced little farm animal (very unlovely). And then today was also the day to take my youngest son out shopping. It wasn't a matter of choice, actually. He and I work such opposite hours, a day off together is as rare as hen's teeth. (Gee, and I sound like my grandmother.) Now, I did try not to torture the boy with too much of my music on the car radio. Really. I only tuned in for one song. Well okay, two.
Love Potion #9 - The Clovers
One of the songs on the radio.
Elinore - The Turtles
(or "Eleanor" - I've seen it both ways) [from Hum a Few Bars, 6/28]
Napster
Listen to a song 3 times before you buy. Purdy cool.
Sonny, in turn, tried not to turn my brain to mush either. He likes Gwen Stefani, Christina Aguilara, new age stuff, like Enya and Enigma, but mostly techo-dance-sounding-tunes that are so generic I can never remember the name of any of them. Two of my songs, followed by two of his .... well, we love each other, but that was enough of the radio for one trip.
Now, if you know me, you know how much I like to shop. That is to say, not at all. Not unless I have to. Not unless the cupboards are bare, my jeans have disintegrated in the wash and my tennies will no longer hold together, even with string. (People tell me I'm a weird female. I guess so.) But today's excursions were unusually fun, even with the heat, because they were part of two celebrations. The first being that after 2 years in college, taking a scattershot of classes from theater arts to remedial math, followed by another 2 years of hiatus from the halls of higher learning to work and decide what he wanted to do, my youngest son has finally decided to re-enroll in college this fall.
YAY!! :picture mom dancing around the room, grinning like a fool:
The second celebration is sweet/bittersweet, and a little amazing. We were shopping because his birthday is in a couple of weeks. He'll be turning 21 this year. Twenty one. My baby. A legal adult. It wasn't so much an O.M.G. moment as it was mom-nostalgic. I was driving along, listening to him chatter on about friends and work and buying books for college, and half my mind went its own way and called up a vivid picture of a little boy with straight, silky, dark hair, a bright yellow jacket, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sneakers on feet almost too big for his body, a tiny smile finally breaking thru the cloud of tears in his beautiful brown eyes. His still-pudgy hand was encased in mine and we were walking away from the school building, away from everything he and I had known as 'education'. He didn't utter a word, but he didn't have to. Those eyes said it all. Thank you, mom. I don't want to be called 'slow' anymore. I don't want to go to the doctor and be diagnosed with ADD. I'm not a troublemaker. I'm just bored and I don't learn this way. I want to go home with you and my big brother, where it's safe to be me.
It was April of 1993, a chilly and overcast and blustery month that year, and he was 6 years old. We were leaving public school to start homeschooling. His brother walked up and took my other hand. All three of us were happy. I was also feeling a few thousand other things. Fury at the school. Excitement at the upcoming adventure. Sheer terror about my non-expertise. What if I messed them up forever?
As I glanced over at my now six-foot-three giant of a teddy bear, I remembered that this was the child that refused to read until age 10. The one who detested any and all textbooks, worksheets and tests. He taught me that learning math from Legos and baking cookies was entirely possible, that invented spelling until age 14 meant nothing more than a creative mind was on the job. I got 2 frown lines and at least 4 grey hairs along the way, but eventually he taught me to stop worrying so much. Right then, as my mind was wandering thru the past, he was trying to teach me about ancient religious beliefs in Mesopotamia. Which, as you probably already know mom, is now split up into Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey? Of course, son, we all know that. (yeah, right) I shook my head and winked at him, and he grinned back knowingly. This is the same child who entered college for the first time age age 16 to be an actor, and is going back at 21 to get his A.A. and then a Ph.D in Theology. With a minor in Mathematics. He likes making up his own Calculus problems now, just for fun. What an eclectic resume that boy's going to have.
Er, that man, I mean.
We pull up to a stoplight and he asks me if I'd like to have a glass of red wine with him on his birthday. He's never tried it before, but he knows I grew up around such stuff, and he needs help picking out a kind to try. I look over at him and smile. A little bit of that bright yellow jacket still hovers in the background of his shirt, like a superimposed layer of etched memory. His feet are bigger than ever now, a size 13 E. I reach over and his big, bear paw of a hand swallows mine. It's hard to speak with all those memories floating thru the air, so I just smile some more and nod.
Red wine it is, son. And here's to you.
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