Category: sons

29Nov

Black Friday

Today is Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday. I’ve never been one to want to go shopping on Black Friday; wake up before the chickens, crowds to fight, traffic to contend with; it’s just not for me.

I much prefer sleeping in on Black Friday. No agenda. No plans. Just take it easy after the much anticipated Thanksgiving day. Maybe not even get out of my pajamas.

Charlie has his own Black Friday tradition. Weather permitting, he and a group of friends ride their motorcycles to Waynesville, NC for lunch. It’s an all day event that keeps him out until dark.

In the three years since Charlie and I have been married, we have hosted Thanksgiving in our home each year. Some years we have had all of our children present, some years not. Sometimes work schedules have not permitted, other times one lives out of town.

Our Thanksgiving gatherings are always a mad house. Kids running around. Dogs chasing kids. Kids chasing dogs. Multiple conversations going on at the same time. Laughter. Photo bombs. Wine flowing. The dining room full. Overflow at the kitchen bar. Smiles, all around. Controlled chaos, if you will. Or maybe not.

This Thanksgiving didn’t go as planned and I’ve been a bit sad today.

The flu hit.

My daughters Heather and Robin (and all four grands) were exposed to the flu last Saturday. On Tuesday, Heather became the first flu victim and now, Lexi is showing symptoms. Thankfully, Dave (Heather’s husband) has not fallen victim yet. Robin and her family graciously bowed out of attending Thanksgiving in order not to expose the rest of us.

So here we are yesterday with a feast to feed 15 and only a few family members there to enjoy the bounty.

For the first time, all of the guests were able to gather around the dining table – with seats left over. It was a wonderful evening. Conversation flowed freely, no children there to interrupt, the dogs finally settled in to having company. We even played a few games of Smart Ass in peace. Ahhh… so this is what a quiet dinner is like.

But it wasn’t the same. At all.

Bring back the chaos.

Let me hear multiple conversations going on at the same time. I want to see Robin looking in the fridge for more deviled eggs. I want to glance over and see Heather having a conversation with her daughter. I need to watch my adult children interact with one another. I missed watching Charlie and Dave in deep conversation about a subject that’s generally way over my head. I need to purvey the room and see all of my loved ones under one roof. Brandon and Shane giving each other a hard time (what brothers do). Jason holding Logan. The trio of Lexi, Luna, and Lucas running through the house. Stephen and Amber sitting on the sofa taking selfies and making jokes. And later, the adults once again, gathering around the dining table for a few hours of board games.

Nope. It wasn’t the same.

So instead of sleeping in on this Black Friday morning, I was on a mission. Get up, get dressed, pack up all of the leftovers and deliver them to the doorsteps of my daughter’s homes. It was the least I could do for the self imposed quarantined families.

My deliveries have been made. My quest fulfilled. And now I sit at my local Starbucks sipping on a Breve Latte and nibbling on a piece of pumpkin bread. And thinking….musing….pondering…

….and counting my lucky stars of just how fortunate I am to have the family that I have. All of them. Their quirks, their hearts, their imperfections, and the perfect way they love me. And although this Thanksgiving brought a bit of disappointment, it was still a good one. Sometimes it takes the absence of something to really appreciate it.

So today, on this Black Friday, I give thanks for my family.

Love to you all.

14May

Turn the page

A few weeks ago a piece of my heart backed out of my driveway headed south to New Orleans. A new car. A new job. A new life. Adventures out there for the taking.

Shane. My son.

This boy, this wonderment, this blessing was born to me 31 years ago. I was the ripe old age of 30 when I became pregnant, 31 when he was born. Years earlier I thought I was finished having children. My former husband and I had two daughters, and that was enough for me. My life was full, it was complete.

Then divorce happened.

I remarried a few years later, and found myself yearning for “Just one more.” That’s how I approached Shane’s dad, a man that had formerly been a self proclaimed bachelor. Although it took some coaxing out of this reluctant forty year old Irishman, I won him over to the idea of having a child of his own.

Each one of my children has a special place in my heart. I remember when my first child was born I could never imagine how I could possibly love another human being as much as I loved Heather. And then Robin was born two years later. And whoa! I loved her in her own unique way. By the time Shane was born, I knew how much love my heart could hold for a child – but I was still a little amazed that he had me from his first heartbeat.

Sadly, when Shane was 5 years old, his father and I divorced.

This kid took it all in stride. I always said that he was my “happy medium” child…. not too head strong, but not passive either. He was always a happy guy, fun to be with, a jokester, always a smile on his face. Shane is an easy person to to like, to love.

The older I get, the more I seem to say, “Where has the time gone?” And nothing makes me say that more than when I see my children.

When Shane first started preschool he had a tough time saying goodbye in the mornings. There were a lot of tears, and lots of hugging at our morning drop off. His little voice pleading, “Please don’t go Mommy.” I can’t count how many mornings I spent the remainder of my commute choking back tears, feeling like I had broken my son’s heart. It took several weeks, but it got easier as Shane & I got into our routine. High five. Kiss on the cheek. Tell Quack to have a good day (Quack was his teddy bear that rarely left his side). And then one day there were no tears. No “one more hug Mommy”. No looking back for a last glance at Mom. Just a little boy learning independence.

Turn the page and he’s walking into high school. Then he’s driving. First girlfriend. First job. Graduation.

Turn the page and he’s off to college. Then graduation. Then nursing school. Another graduation. Then his first job as an RN.

Then later talks of setting out and seeing the world. Serious talks of travel nursing.

And just a few months later, Shane gets the call he’s been waiting for. A job is his for the taking in New Orleans.

And suddenly I’m the one wanting to hold on. I’m the one with the lump in my throat silently begging for one more hug, one more high five. Where’s Quack when you need him?

Time to empty his apartment. Pack his essentials. Store away memories. Countdown to his new life.

And on that last day as Shane drove away, as a new chapter in his life opened, a chapter in my life closed.

The chapter when all of my children lived in the same city. A time when a “family night” was sanctioned and all would arrive. The times that Shane would call and say, “Hey, are y’all home? I thought I would drop in”.

But that’s okay. For everything there is a season.

I wish you well son. Go see the world. Be happy. Be resourceful. Be adventurous. I’ll leave the light on for you.

All my love,

Mom

30Oct

It’s just a jacket, right?

It’s old. It’s faded. Some of the edges are frayed. There’s a tear in the cuff that can’t be repaired. It’s definitely seen better days.

This jacket has been with me for the better part of 25 years.

There’s been a few times I’ve had it in my “toss” pile, only to  change my mind and pull it back out.  So, I ask myself, what is it about this jacket that I keep running back to like an old friend? What is it about this unpretentious article of clothing that I can’t seem to let go of?

Simple.

It’s history.

It’s the history that is held inside the body of this jacket.

In the years since I have owned this piece of clothing (or, does it own me), this jacket has kept my body warm and my soul comforted. It’s the comfort of chicken soup and the warmth of hot chocolate.  This friend of mine has kept me warm at  UT football games, hayrides, and  pumpkin carvings. Its sleeves have wiped noses, its hood has kept the rain off. It has served as an impromptu pillow and a blanket for little ones. It has accompanied me on walks, endless farmer’s markets,and soccer games.  It has been with me on some of my best days, and some of my worst days. On some of my darkest days, it has caught tears that couldn’t be held back.

Just look at this picture. That jacket is keeping my daughter warm on a chilly Saturday morning in 1994. That’s Shane on her lap (he’s 30 now). 
jacket

Fast forward to October 2012 (18 years later), that’s Shane wearing that very same jacket. He and Brandon supported me by participating in the Out of the Darkness community walk for Suicide Prevention. 
shanejacket

 I asked my daughter Robin to put on the jacket so I would have a picture of her wearing it too. 🙂

robinjacket

And just 2 years ago, I brazenly got it back out of the toss pile  and wore it while running errands on yet another chilly East Tennessee Saturday morning.

catjacket

And then, just this spring, here “we” are with Charlie on a video shoot in Birmingham, AL.  This old jacket and her ample pockets came in handy storing camera batteries, filters, lens caps, and a handful of C47’s (also known as clothespins).

So, if I could turn back the hands of time would I make her new again?

No, not really. Because, like its owner, this beloved jacket of mine has worked hard for those worn edges, she has earned the frays and the imperfections that make her what  she is today.

And what happens to this little sweetheart when I’m no longer around to need her? Well, Ms. Ames, she’s yours – as you wish.