I Love His Mess

I just dropped my son off at the bus.  It wasn’t a regular ‘Bye, have a good day,’ interaction most moms around the world have with sons, watching them rush off to school, to college or to work. There wasn’t that touch of mundane routine, or sense of rushing as kids slam car doors and meld into crowds of shuffling, faded jeans, backs stooped by book-filled packs and ears plugged into music.

And I didn’t just veer back into the rush hour traffic with a secure knowledge most moms have; that he would be home for dinner, or maybe for the weekend and that life would simply go on. No. It wasn’t that at all. I did not know when he would be back or when I would be allowed to talk to him next.

He had been home for the week on army leave. He slept in, hung out with friends, watched movies, bought jeans at the GAP--and left a mess wherever he went. For one week, he was a kid just like those other kids moms drop off at the bus stop.

Except early this morning, as he walked downstairs, I could see he wasn’t a kid anymore. Wearing his crisp, clean army uniform, he dragged a huge duffle bug, dropping it at the front door.

He was a soldier again and my job this morning was to give him back to the army. I know it was hard for him to shake off his civilian life with oodles of free time, staying up late and having laughs with old buddies. “Which movie should we see?” “Wanna to go to the beach?  “Feel like sushi tonight?”

But he stood tall, put the bag into the trunk of the car and off we drove. I gave him a hug, said “I love you” and watched him place his bag under a bus, then disappear.  I tried to feel normal, but something stirred deep inside. I was saddened that it had to be like this. In our modern world, living in a high-tech Western country, we still have to give away our boys for three long years.

I drove back home to an empty house and before I sat at my desk, I thought I would peek into his room. It was a mess. Damp towels covered the floor. Socks were scattered. Pants and shirts sat in heaps. 

I started to clean up the clothes, sorting the clean from the dirty. I slowly folded the pants and neatly placed them on hangers. I arranged his shoes in pairs in the closet, fluffed his duvet and puffed up his pillow, wondering when he would be back in his cozy bed.

I love having him around. I even love his mess. 

photo credit: terremonto via photopin cc