The past three months felt endless. My eldest, Mark, has returned home after completing his first semester at college, and tonight, my heart is brimming with joy. The sink is overflowing with dinner dishes, and the washing machine is back to its familiar groan. The refrigerator door has swung open and shut so many times that I half-expect a bulb to burn out.
Mark looks vibrant and content, buzzing with stories about his life on campus. His laughter fills the kitchen, a sound that resonates deeply within me. Our family gathers around him, eager to hear about his classes and grades. I can’t help but think how just a week ago, he wasn’t here with us. The yogurt has curdled, the orange juice has soured, and the bananas have turned brown—reminders that I still haven’t quite adjusted to shopping for a household without him.
Mark’s first semester has been a success; college is everything he imagined it would be. He mentions he’s been eating less starch and more protein, boasting about how good it looks. I resist the urge to point out that looking good is easy at 19. He’s strong, and hugging him now feels like embracing a sturdy oak. When I inquire about his sleep and overall well-being, he responds positively, sharing tales of hard work and new friendships. His enthusiasm is infectious, and his eyes sparkle with every detail.
I recall when he started kindergarten, how he would rush to tell me about projects and stories from his day. His joy was contagious, yet I felt a pang at the thought that my role in his daily life was diminishing.
Time has a way of slipping by unnoticed. I see the green footstool I painted for him—still in the same corner, a relic of his childhood. It’s bittersweet, a reminder of how things have changed.
Now, I often find myself wanting to know everything. I wait for a moment alone to ask him essential questions about his life—where he gets his hair cut, if there’s a great pasta spot nearby, and whether he felt strange on his first night away.
- “Are your boots warm enough?”
- “Do you have a buddy system when you go out? Please tell me yes.”
- “Why don’t I see more pictures of you wearing a hat? Do you need a new one?”
Knowing these small details helps me visualize him during the times he’s away. The duffel bag resting on the floor of his room serves as a constant reminder that this is merely a visit.
Watching Mark discuss his new life fills me with unexpected joy. I had always feared that his departure would leave me lost, wandering aimlessly without him. Instead, I find myself genuinely happy for his growth and success. I feel a blend of emotions, including a lump in my throat, but also a deep sense of gratitude for his happiness. He may not be home in the same way as before, but I am okay with it. The power of love allows me to embrace this transition rather than mourn it.
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In summary, my relationship with my son has evolved as he navigates his life away from home. I am learning to cherish his visits while supporting his independence.
Keyphrase: My Son’s Visits Home
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