My Son Is Coming Home

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So my son is coming home to visit for a week, in theory. We’re thinking about today, driving to the city to pick him up, stopping to visit my parents, his grandparents, on the way back, and then bringing him home for the fall break.

Fall break is different to me, because Queen’s never had one. Reading week in the spring, but there was no fall break. The fall break for Eric isn’t really a reading week either, because it happens actually the week after midterms and, while the vacation after all that hard work is appreciated likely appreciated by the students, it still seems weird to me. I think their spring break is treated the same way. It’s not actually week to study and get ready for midterms but a week to recover from those midterms.

Still, all beside the point. My son is coming home for a week. For seven days, or six probably, because he wants to go back on the Saturday for a party, my family will all be under one roof. A small piece of my world will be right, as normal as possible, because I don’t have a week off, because I still have all of the regular commitments, particularly my still-feeling-new job.

But, unless a whole bunch of his friends are coming home, and reading week/fall break are not the same everywhere even to the schools that have it, and he’s told me that he doesn’t actually see or talk to a lot of people from highschool more except the ones he lives with, but that may change, he’ll mostly be around when I am, which means all three of my kids, even if there ignoring me, will mostly be around when I am. That actually will probably lower my stress level. And I could certainly use a lower stress level right now.

For a week, I’ll be as close as possible to being able to say that everything is right in my world. I think even his sisters are looking forward to the visit since he hasn’t actually been home a lot since he moved to Ottawa in the spring last year.

The shoe is on the other foot now, as the old cliché goes. I remember being his age and being near enough to being completely out of the house, on my own, living my own life. I recognize now at least some of the emotion my parents must have gone through at the time. I want him to explore and discover and live his own life, but I miss him terribly every single day.

For a week, my family will be whole again, not that it isn’t, but it will feel that way for me in a different way. Or maybe I’ll just feel different. Either way, it’s going to be a good week.

Be well, everyone.

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