Home sweet home...F/M for a change

Part 4 with usual disclaimers...this is a long one but I needed someplace to post it...you'll definitely want a beverage and an empty bladder before starting it.

Home sweet home, here I come. I love coming home, especially after a long day and today certainly qualifies. Qualifies in a huge freaking way!! Trudging through the snow to the front door I quickly remove one glove, slam the key into the front door and turn the lock as I use my hip to open the door. The frigid climate is an amazing motivator and I have gotten the key-door-hip move down pat. The trick is to keep from falling into the house once the door is open which I have done a few times. Hard not to look stupid lying on the floor in winter garb. Real hard.

The house is dark and eerily quiet as I make my way into the kitchen. Okay, so I track a little snow - it’s only water which will evaporate and help decrease the use of the humidifier. I am doing my part for the environment. Thankfully a chair is available in the kitchen corner for me to sit on and remove my winter garb. It also doubles as a “Sam’s winter gear” storage area. All I need to do is tuck the boots neatly underneath the chair and I have maintained our mess free home.

Now, let me explain the “mess free” policy we have recently adopted in our home. Tina is an obsessive-compulsive neat freak. I realize it is not her fault but the result of a tragic clothing/accidental wine stain incident. We don’t bring it up anymore for obvious reasons. This “incident” occurred when I was a freshman in college and she was the dorm monitor. She was visiting my dorm room for some reason. I was being hospitable and offered her a glass of wine. The distance between me and Tina proved somewhat perilous that day as I tripped over something (she said shoes, books and a candle) and the wine became airborne. Unfortunately, it landed on the white blouse Tina was wearing. I apologized and yet she still seemed upset later that evening. I repeat - it was an accident and I had apologized. She had a hard time letting it go (I agree that she was being unreasonable).

Anyway, that day marked the beginning of her “neat freak” mode and determination to indoctrinate me into her way of thinking. Over the last fifteen years we have compromised (me) and have been able to work out any differences. I learned the value of picking up after myself and putting things where they belong. She quit labeling everything and ensuring all the books were filed alphabetically (she agreed to grouping by subject). Works for us.

So, that brings us up to the “mess free” or the MF policy as I like to call it. I mentioned the cold weather, right? Now, I am not a cold weather person. I can deal with it but prefer to spend my time within the confines of a warm structure. Snowboarding and ice skating no longer have any appeal for me. Then there’s the “driving in the snow” issue – other people’s driving, not mine. I drive just fine and am well versed in remaining on the road (necessary to avoid the cold) under all circumstances. On a few occasions, other drivers have even sacrificed their space on the road to ensure I continued my journey (heart-warming, isn’t it?)

Anyway, I left my boots in front of the door (not exactly in front, more to the side) and Tina tripped (she really should look where she is going) one night. You can guess how the subsequent events unfolded and culminated in the MF policy.

Deciding to start dinner (yes I know - I am a keeper), I went in search of ingredients. I notice the answering machine light is off and there is no note on the “kitten” notepad on the front of the frig. Remaining in hunter-gatherer mode I locate carrots, celery, onions and a pork roast (hey, meat in any way designates me a hunter). Quickly placing all the ingredients in the roasting pan with some carefully measured seasonings (I see you smirking) and a few cups of water, I shove the whole meal in the oven at 375. Dinner should be ready in an hour and I can cook from any room in the house. It just doesn’t get any better than this.

Next, it’s off to shed the remaining remnants of this horrid day. After taking a quick shower and donning my favorite flannel sweats, I decide to wait in my favorite chair. Lost in my book, I didn’t realize what time it was until I heard the front door open. “Hi Sam.” I can hear the tension in her voice and know immediately something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. I leave the comfort of my chair and make my way downstairs. Quickly…very quickly.

Tina is standing in the foyer and I quickly walk up to her. Seeing her face, I pull her into my arms – she has definitely had a bad day. Looking down at the floor, I can’t help but notice a second pair of boots. Now, most people (Tina) would expect to find two pairs of boots by the front door (the two people live here thing) but one compromise to our MF policy was allowing boots to be in any room with an outside door regardless of the location of entry. She had decided to throw me a bone – I don’t have a problem with a pity victory.

Before I can ask the question I hear the answer. “Hello Aunt Sam.” Quickly turning around I find myself looking at the chest of Ethan. Tilting my head up, I lock onto his beautiful green eyes and pull him into a big hug. Usually he reciprocates and I find myself dangling off the ground. Not this time.

See, Ethan was a kid we more or less adopted. Tina met him during her last year of teaching twelfth grade and immediately saw the scared little boy hiding in the sullen teenager. As the trust began to grow between the two, Tina discovered the source of the fear. Ethan’s dad was gone and his mom was an alcoholic. Now Ethan never said that, would never say anything bad about his mom but Tina was able to piece things together.

Ethan would come over for tutoring (conveniently around dinner time) twice a week. As his mother’s behavior became more erratic, the visits to the house increased in frequency and pretty soon he had a toothbrush and spare set of clothes in the guest bathroom. We visited Ethan’s mother a few weeks after Tina had started tutoring him. She looked at us with the saddest eyes I have ever seen and simply said “Thank you.” This woman knew she was drowning and didn’t want to take her son with her.

We gave him a key after discovering he had spent a few nights sleeping in the park. At first he denied there was any problem but soon we found him at the breakfast table at least four mornings a week. It quickly became clear that the late night entrances into our home could be problematic, especially if only one of us was home. On more than a few occasions we have met Ethan in the hallway with a baseball bat. Yeah, this needed to change. So, the deal was he had to be home by 9 pm if he was staying with us. No exceptions. He laughed and said it was a weird kind of curfew. We didn’t think so.

He violated that rule on two occasions. The first time we told him there would be consequences - that it was dangerous and someone was going to get hurt. The second time he experienced those consequences. I remember the utter look of shock on his face as Tina grabbed his ear and marched him to the couch. She sat down and pulled him over her lap in one smooth move (she’s had a little practice). Quickly bringing her hand down on his posterior, she was focused on the lesson at hand. Ethan tried to be stoic (manly as he says) but Tina is a spanker extraordinaire. That woman can spank and has a cast iron hand. I’ve done the stoic route before and knew the “manly” boy would soon become a pleading boy. She rained swats down in rapid succession for a good ten minutes making sure every inch of his bottom experienced her attention.

I remember little gasps at the 1 minute mark, yelps plus a foot twitch at 2 minutes, definite squirming at 3, tears at the 4 minute mark, rivers of tears pooling on the floor at 5 (actually, he was pretty manly), hands reaching back to cover the target area at the 5 ½ mark and pleas for mercy before the 6 minute mark. Of course, like the teacher she is, Tina used both physical and verbal methods to make her point. “Young man” made several appearances as did “do I make myself clear”. Oh yeah, let’s not forget the timeless “if you ever do that again, this spanking will seem like a walk in the park”. Tina’s goal wasn’t to make him cry but to learn the lesson at hand (hers). His safety was paramount – simple as that.

I also remember the way he fiercely held onto Tina as she held him in her arms afterwards. Ethan cried a long time that night. He cried for his mother, father and lost childhood. Later, he lay down on the couch with his head cradled in my lap, a few tears sneaking down his face. Tina kept stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort, holding that little boy safely to her heart. We became Aunt Tina and Aunt Sam that night – family. Neither of us could carry this “little boy” to bed so we left him on the couch. Tina slept in the recliner that night just to make sure he was okay. He was.

Hearing the oven timer go off, I announce that dinner is ready. Neither says anything as we all make our way to the kitchen. “Ethan, please set the table,” I ask while removing the delicious roast from the oven. I didn’t really need to say anything; we all know what our kitchen duties are. Grabbing two pot holders I place the scrumptious dinner on the table (a Donna Reed moment). I pray the tension would ease between my dinner companions as the aroma of dinner (very nice if I say so myself) continues to drift upward. No such luck.

"Look you two, I slaved hours over the stove to make this dinner. I have no intention of using my knife to cut the tension between you two so suck it up for thirty minutes and pretend to like each other’s company.” With that pronouncement, I decide to fill my plate with meat (falls off the bone), vegetables (sans carrots – hate cooked carrots) and hand the serving utensils to Tina.

“Need some help?” I inquire as she looks at me sheepishly.

“No thank you. This looks great. Thank you.” Yessirree Bob, I am wearing the pants in the family right now. This power can be a little intoxicating – know what I mean? I’ll just enjoy it while I can.

Tina offers to dish up a serving for Ethan. I notice she avoids the carrots as she fills his plate. He hates them too. Ethan notices her gesture also and I see him relax his shoulders...a little but still worth mentioning. Finally, dinner is served to all.

Now, I know this isn’t going to be a talkfest but I do like a little conversation around the dinner table. I have a feeling the real conversation will take place later. Tina catches my eye and my suspicions are validated. Ethan just answers my questions with one word answers but in a polite way. He’s trying, poor boy. Okay, maybe not a boy. This twenty year old “boy” is a junior in college, 180 pounds and 6’2”.

The rule (not the MF but another one) in our house is the cook doesn’t have to clean up – the other diners have that duty. Tonight, however, I’m thinking a change would be very helpful. Sending Ethan in search of a shower, I begin clearing the table. Hearing the shower running, I wait for Tina to begin. After five grueling minutes, I realize she is not going to break the silence. Closing the dishwasher (somewhat forcefully) I turn around and glare her way. Of course she has her back turned – so not fair.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Seemed like the appropriate question at the time and I am trying very hard to keep my temper in check. Sitting down, she meets my gaze. “Well, it’s like this. I picked Ethan up from the police station.” Not good…so not good.

“What!!! The police station.” I am sure you figured out my voice has risen somewhat in volume and I quickly make my way to join her at the table.

“Yes, the police station. It seems Ethan and a few friends decided it would be a good idea to improve the aesthetics (gotta love an English professor) of the chem building. Using spray paint, they decorated the back wall with an eclectic collection of words and pictures. The overall theme was pizza, sex and screw authority.” Well, that’s not a combo you see every day.

“A police officer happened upon this work of art and the boys, sorry men, decided to vacate the premises. Additional men in uniform blocked the escape routes and...well…the police station thing. Apparently our budding artist decided to utilize his extensive vocabulary upon seeing the initial police officer but was quickly dissuaded from that particular course of action.” Seeing my worried face Tina quickly assured me only verbal methods were used by the police officer.

“Wow, he certainly does make an impression,” I manage to say after whistling through my teeth.

“That he does,” Tina responds with a smile, “Anyway, the other boys called their parents. While the parents fetched their sons, Ethan sat handcuffed to the bench. Luckily, a campus police officer walked by, recognized Ethan and called me.” As she told the story, I could see the fatigue creep over her body and those worry wrinkles showed up. My baby did have a bad day.

“Ethan didn’t say anything when I arrived and has pretty much been mute. I was too shocked to speak when I saw him handcuffed.” At this junction, tears begin to roll down Tina’s cheeks. “Sam, I didn’t know what to say. When they released him from those handcuffs, I held onto him as tight as I could. When I pulled away, he had this look in his eye, reminded me of the little boy look he used to get. I took his hand and we walked out of that place.”

By now I am holding her hands in mine. Shit, I need to grab a Kleenex before the snot string makes contact with the table or my hand (oh please, we have ALL experienced the snot string before). Now, this is an art – reaching for the box of Kleenex while maintaining enough contact so Tina will NOT turn her head thus detaching said snot string and casting it into the night (sounds more poetic than kitchen and it’s not easy to bring poetry to “snot string”). I am successful, tears are dried and the snot string is safely secured. Mission accomplished.

Making a command decision, I take Tina’s hand and make my way to the bedroom with her in tow. She still looks pretty tired…very tired. “Okay, I’m going to draw you a bath and you will soak for awhile.” I put my fingers on her lips, effectively stopping her protest. “I will check on Ethan and make sure he is okay,” I softly reassure her.

Nodding slightly, I make my way to the bathroom and focus on a different recipe. The ingredients I need are different but the result will be the same… a more relaxed and content Tina. Adding the anti-anxiety or was it anti-oxidant bath salts, whatever…I walk out and give Tina a hug. “Go now, rest and relax. I’ve got Ethan.” My voice may be gentle but my eyes are firm. Okay, time to move onto the next family member.

Slowly making my way down the hall I listen for the sound of the shower. Noticing the absence of such sound, I can’t help but smile at his decision to avoid the shower delaying tactic...our little boy is maturing. Knocking softly on his door, I wait for an invitation to enter. No response – maybe he didn’t hear me due to hearing loss (kids today with their loud music). See, I know he couldn’t be purposely ignoring me so that made sense.

I knock a little louder this time and still get no response. Great, now I have to open the door and face the remote possibility he is ignoring me – I so do not want to shatter that dream. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself for the potential dream-shattering moment, I cross the bedroom threshold and head inside (courageous if you ask me – facing my fear and all). Spying Ethan sitting in the chair next to the window, I slowly inch my way in his direction (no need to accelerate the dream-shatter-moment). We both share that - gazing out the window from our chair to find some serenity, acceptance and clarity. It helps…sometimes more than others.

Softly calling his name I reach the chair. He is asleep, head listing to the right. Reaching for a blanket, I cover him up and kiss his forehead. Looking down, I smile and send a thank you to the Powers that Be for guiding this special creature into our lives. I savor the moment knowing this quiet will evaporate tomorrow. Yep, things are definitely going to get noisy around la casa tomorrow.

The next morning I am rudely roused from a blissful state of slumber by an annoying and high pitched beeping sound. Hoping that Tina will silence the source of my distress, I pull a pillow over my head and try to recapture my blissful state. Shit, can’t she hear that? Peeking out from under the pillow, I quickly understand why she has not silenced this technological irritant. She appears to have awakened from her state of slumber and is somewhere else at the moment. Great, now I have to silence the beast. Reaching out with my right arm, I search around for the damn alarm using the touch method. Where the hell is it? Finally reaching the pinnacle of my frustration, I role over and bring my arm/hand down somewhat forcefully. The result – wonderful silence. Tucking both hands under the pillow, I resume my quest for sleep.

“Sam, honey, wake up.” Great, someone or something else is screwing with my slumber. Opening one eye, actually squinting, I notice Tina is standing next to the bed holding a cup of ambrosia (coffee). Man, it is really bright in here – who let the sun in anyway?

“I see you hit the snooze on the alarm clock,” Tina casually mentions as she pulls the covers off my head. “Huh,” is all I can muster, “what time is it?” Handing me my coffee (she is a Godsend) Tina informs me that it is time to get up which usually translates into 7-7:30 am depending on her schedule during the week and around 9am on weekends. Shit, what day is this? Nonchalantly glancing towards the bedside table I plan on using the time to orient me to the day. Seeing the little bits of plastic I realize how she knew I had hit the snooze.

Look, alarm clocks seem to creep into that part of my psyche that is part Arnold and Stallone when I am emerging from sleep. Guess you noticed I am tenacious when it comes to preserving said sleep state. I’m getting better at treating the electronic devices gentler but at least once a month I bury an alarm clock. I know it will happen, Tina knows it will happen and she keeps a spare alarm clock on her side of the bed. Seemed the prudent thing to do. We also keep spares in the closet.

“Come on Sammie, let me make you breakfast,” she gently offers, “and it’s 9 by the way.” She knows me well.

After performing all those morning habits, I make my way into the kitchen. The aroma of bacon (should be an air freshener scent if you ask me) draws me to the stove. I’m not going to cook or anything but I’m still drawn.

“Put this on the table please.” A plate of eggs suddenly appears in my hand and I pick up the toast on my way to the designated location. Tina follows with the bacon and a pot of coffee. I decide to wait on her to begin the ‘Ethan’ conversation. After ten minutes I realize I may need to rethink my plan.

“Honey, about Ethan…” She looks up and I can see the smoldering anger mixed with fear in her eyes. My eyes reflect the same. “Yeah, Ethan…” she replies just as the person of interest appears in the kitchen. Kid has great timing.

Ethan grabs a cup of coffee and takes a seat at the table while completely avoiding eye contact. We both greet him with the customary “good morning” and sit back while drinking coffee. Catching Tina’s eye I begin the conversation. Ethan has a difficult time maintaining eye contact. Actually, he has a difficult looking anywhere but the floor.

“Ethan, look at us while we are talking to you,” Tina admonishes softly. As he picks his head up I notice the tears falling down his cheeks increase and his lip begins to quiver. Grabbing one hand while Tina grabbed the other, I take a deep breath and decide to plunge in. “I am sorry Aunt Tina and Aunt Sam. It should never have happened and it won’t happen again.” After all my preparations, the boy stole my thunder.

“We had a few beers and some of the guys suggested we have some fun. It seemed harmless at the time. I have no excuse for my behavior. I am planning on going over to the chem. building after breakfast and work on scrubbing the mess off the building. I already have an appointment with the Dean of Students (apparently he made one phone call from the police station) to discuss this and accept any consequences he deems appropriate. I’m meeting him at 10am. I cannot tell you why I joined in except to say it was a serious lapse in judgment.” Wow, you have to be kind of impressed at Ethan’s initiative…at least I am, not sure about Tina.

“Good, I am proud of you for accepting responsibility, honey,” I whisper in his ear as I reached over to give him a hug. “We’ll talk more tonight.” Rising and proceeding to begin the process of making restitution, he trudges off into the cold. Tina remains silent, a sadness reflected in her eyes. I’m not sure what is going on with my baby but I know there is more to this story. A lot more.

When we are alone again, I notice she still has that look…sadness and hurt hidden deep within her eyes but I can see it. I know her well. Reaching over, I gently brush her face. I give her my raised eyebrow coupled with “concern corners” – hard to resist combo. Oh yeah, let me explain “concern corners”. They are those little wrinkles that show up on the outer corner of your mouth when your lips scrunch together. They really are a nuisance and can cause lasting wrinkles. I try to avoid them – getting (vanity) and giving (painful).

“I’m okay, just tired.” Tired is code for “leave it alone for now”. Finishing the kitchen clean-up in silence (MF, remember) we both head off to do whatever we were going to do this Saturday. In my case a little reading, trip to the grocery store, maybe some laundry, piano time, and a chick flick. A quick kiss and Tina heads out the door to keep student office hours until 2pm. I like my plans better than hers.

Enjoying my piano time, I hear someone enter the front door. Actually, I hear the thumping of boots in an attempt to remove winter remnants. “Samantha…” heralds from said person. Shit, the use of my full name rarely bodes well for me.

“In here honey,” I respond using my most angelic voice (should have been practicing that). There is no reason for me to go to her – none at all. Close proximity doesn’t seem like a good thing right now. Don’t need a committee member to tell me that (committees occasionally form in my head with different voices (all mine) - not in a crazy way but rather in a think-outside-the-box look-at-both-sides-now way). It works for me.

I hear footsteps rapidly approaching my location and decide to remain behind the piano (pretty impressive barrier). “You would not believe what he did!!”

Whew, it’s not me that she is pissed at although it’s not good that it’s Ethan – just better that it isn’t ME. Coming out from behind the piano (safe to do) I head towards the couch (Tina’s location). Ya know, she looks ready to explode - I decide to sit back and wait. Man she is pissed – very pissed.

“He met with the Dean and discussed what happened. Apparently he had already cleaned off the artwork with his buddies.” Okay, this doesn’t sound too bad – seems like Ethan is on track. Nodding my head, she continues.

“After discussing everything, Dean Reynolds decided that each offender had to perform 15 hours of community service at the rec center and talk to the kids about their behavior, why it was wrong, etc.” Still waiting for the punch line and I can tell it is coming next.

“Ethan decides to pick that moment to become possessed with a sixteen year old BRAT. He tells Dean Reynolds that this is unfair, that the damage had already been taken care of and they have been punished enough…punished enough!!” Ohhhh, so that is why she is so pissed off.

“Wait Sam, it gets better.” Can’t see how that could happen.

“He continues to argue with Dean Reynolds and was this close (holding 2 fingers really, really close together) to getting thrown out of the office and suspended. Thankfully, campus security called me after they received the call from the Dean.” Shit, this really wasn’t good. Campus security in two days – his face must be plastered on their ‘call-if-trouble’ wall.

“I got there, had Ethan wait outside and calmed the Dean down. Ethan refused to apologize until I grabbed his ear and explained the error of his ways. He did apologize and agree to the community service. Sam, it was a close call.” Wow, where did the mature man from this morning scamper off to?

“Ah, Tina, where is he now?” I carefully inquire in a calm, cool and quiet voice.

A look passed over her face which can only be described as a rolling ball of fury. The hair on the back of my head began to stand up and I slowly edged my way to the far end of the couch – hopefully out of arms reach. “He’s not here?” asks the usually mentally stable person before me. Her voice has taken on this menacing quality and I swear she is growling. I elect to nod my head – no need to add fuel to this fire. It seems he was supposed to come back here. The boy probably went to the frat house – he’s not stupid. Then again…

Time drags by as this horrid day continues. I work very hard at staying out of Tina’s way and NOT irritating her in any way. Once she barked at me over a dish in the sink. I retorted that she shouldn’t be taking her frustration with Ethan out on me. She quickly apologized and all was forgiven. It really was a martyr moment for me. I savored it but climbed down off my cross after ten minutes or so. I know – I’m such a softy.

Around nine o’clock I hear the back door open. Tina has been asleep for an hour – she was completely drained and exhausted. She did spit out that she had been upset that Ethan hadn’t called us from the police station. My comment was “duh, he’s not stupid and he would have eventually made the call.” That seemed to make sense to her – we are on the same page. I will check out my theory with Ethan the next time I see him.

Making my way to the kitchen I spy the missing family member. “Hi Ethan,” I softly say as I make my way towards him.

“Hi Aunt Sam,” he responds as he returns my embrace.

“We need to talk,” I inform him, “now.” That came out a little sterner than I expected. Oh well.

I decide to inquire about his mental health. He raises his eyebrow with a slightly cocky look on his face. Shit, no wonder Tina almost lost it with him. “That is the only explanation I can think of to explain your apparent loss of manners, judgment and common courtesy.” I am on a roll now.

“Aunt Sam, I know I was out of line (understatement) but so was Aunt Tina.” This ought to be good. He certainly has my undivided attention.

“I am an adult and it was my problem to handle. The Dean was being unreasonable and I was perfectly within my rights to say so.” Perfectly within his rights…perfectly within his rights!! Law and Order has done this boy a disservice plus he has obviously lost his mind. I simply nod and clench my jaw – I can feel the headache looming before me. “I don’t know why campus security called Aunt Tina anyway. Talk about an over-reaction.” Okay, I have exercised amazing self control – have conducted myself in a manner befitting a nun. Tina was right – he is a sixteen year old brat.

“Ethan stop!” I need to get his attention. I quickly inform him he has been behaving like an ungrateful little brat and I have just the cure. Grabbing his arm (he’s too tall for me to reach his ear) I escort him to the den, sit down and deposit him over my lap. I recently had the chance to practice this technique with my niece and I am pleased with my performance. Securing him with my arm, I begin to school Ethan in the error of his ways. That sounds nicer than spanking the brat out of him. Either way works for me.

To say he was surprised is a gross understatement. The fifth swat lands before he can register what is happening. Then again, I am pissed so my arm is moving at a pretty quick clip. “Stop it right now.” All I need to say as he gives a half-hearted attempt to get up. I continue to land smack after smack on his hindquarters ensuring no area is left unattended. I notice his fists clenched tightly around the pillow he is holding. Either he is pissed or hurting – I really don’t care.

After a few minutes I decide to move things along at a brisker pace. “Lift up you hips,” I order. His hesitation is met with six sharp smacks and the command is repeated. This time my voice has dropped a few octaves and he complies. I grab his pants and quickly pull them down to his knees. He can’t help but inhale. At least he’s breathing.

I quickly focus on the task at hand. Maintaining a steady cadence, my hand rises and falls on the target area for several minutes. He remains stoic, sorry manly, but I see his foot twitch and pretty soon “ow’s” and “oh’s” begin to escape. I inform him that his behavior was inexcusable and he was lucky he didn’t get suspended. The only reason he caught a break was because of the strings Tina pulled. I decide to use the spank-per-word rule - lucky for him I’m not the English professor.

As the lesson continues, Ethan begins to kick his legs, and I hear sniffles (means the tears have arrived). Soon he is squirming over my lap and I know a fire has been ignited in his posterior. “I’m sorry” and “please stop” make an appearance and I can hear the contrition in his voice. Maintaining the spank-per-word rule, I pull out those timeless classics “You will never act like that again young man” and “You will apologize to Tina, campus security and anyone else we decide” - improvised on that one. I end with six swats to his sit spot – “Do I make myself clear?” (myself counted as 2 words – sue me). He assured me I had. He didn’t need any help extricating himself from my lap and quickly returned his pants to their previous position. He really is quite industrious when properly motivated.

Standing up, I pull him into my arms. I know he isn’t ready for a heart-warming moment right now so I simply tell him I love him and forgive him (actually I tell his chest). He gives me a little squeeze, lets go and heads upstairs to continue making restitution.

I hear him talking to Tina and know they have made peace with each other. I hear her tell him she loves him…I know he tells her the same. Finally, the time has come for him to leave our house and resume college life. He gives me a hug and an “I love you” before heading out into the cold. I don’t know where he will go or what he will do. I do know he will always be part of our family. This will always be his home. He knows that too.

Making my way to Tina and the comfort of her arms, I realize life is good.

Life is very good.