I Nurture Him In The Kitchen In His Abscence

My head is just now ready to come back up out of the water… I’ve been, literally, crazed. I have a senior, who rows, who is competing fast and furiously, trying to get into nationals, and I feel it is my responsibility to ensure he has the proper nutrition — as if his success in the boat hinges on the breakfast I feed him, wrapped in waxed paper, along with a paper bag stuffed with beef sandwiches, as he heads out the door…

And there was the email from the crew president asking for 100 photos of our rower from birth till today (it’s only 5 photos per year — about), and we didn’t have digital photos of him until 2006… And scrambling, and then accidentally deleting 90,000 photos (yes, I have that many), getting my heart to beat again, and getting them back, all out of order.

And yes, I have a freshman in the final days of his first year of high school, and there’s that little fourth grader working on his famous Ohio place project (with real, grown-up deadlines) and that little “Fun Size” — he needs something from me, just like the others, but I’m sure I’m missing it right now…

There are papers that need to be edited, and oh yes, there’s that graduation party, and all the work involved with that… A friend died, and there’s the funeral to get to.

I have no time to cry, to be sad about these last few moments as a family with this son of ours who is now this beautiful man. There’s no time to talk… he goes to school, goes to crew, works hard and comes home too tired to move, he eats, showers and does homework until the wee hours of the morning. And I think he doesn’t even know enough to be sad — he’s too young. I nurture him alone, in my kitchen, making food for him for the next big thing.

And then, bleary-eyed myself, I edited his paper this morning, and found these words, written in plain black and white…

imageHe knows… he knows enough to be sad… that there is no way to freeze this moment…

 

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