Frank is generally out the door before I get up in the morning, but I'm a pretty early riser myself. The kids usually see me showered and in my spot (Bible, journal and coffee) when they begin to stir. This morning I just lazed in bed - half awake - that dreamy zone of laziness which feels so decadent. I took the day off to recover from the week end.
Jake opened the door at 7:10 to let Boomer out - their morning routine of the "poop walk." He doesn't open my door all the way - just enough for Boomer to squeeze past. (I'm usually getting dressed by that point in the morning) But this morning he came down the hall to let Boomer back in to my room, too. And the door stayed ajar.
"Good morning," I said. It was all the invitation Jake needed. He uncharacteristically came in, and plopped himself down on the loveseat that faces our bed.
"Are you off today?"
"Yes!"
"Then can you drive me to football?"
"Sure."
"We're out of milk."
"Okay...put it on the list...I'm going to the store today."
And then...he just sat there for a few minutes. I asked him a few questions about his week end. We talked a bit about tonight's plans.
"Gotta go or I'll miss my bus..." And he was gone. I heard the front door slam.
That tiny exchange has filled this mother's heart. My big boy still needs me. He's 13, almost 14. 5 foot 7 and growing like a weed. Football player. Cool guy. But deep deep down...he still likes to know that his mama is home.
I'm so glad.
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