The room above the garage will soon be vacated. A boy moved in there years ago, but a man is now leaving it behind. The lights will no longer shine bright there after midnight. When I return from my nightly strolls with our dog, there won’t be any inviting lights shining through the window panes of my beloved son’s room. The boy who has been the apple of my eye since birth will be gone to college, and the room which he inhabited in the last twelve years would lose its master, its warmth, its friend, its life. There will no longer be any sounds of music, voices, or typing on the keyboard. The computer which used to be a giant window to the world will be shut down until the young man returns for the Christmas holidays.
How can the room survive without its tenant? How long would the spirit of the boy who grew up there, linger on after his departure? Would I be able to seek this room in the future as a refuge to connect with my son? Or, at least with a part of him which he left behind? Would I be able to sense his presence, his being, by sitting on his chair in front of his computer and touching his keyboard? Would that make me sadder or happier? So many unanswered questions…
Eighteen years passed a lot faster than I expected. I don’t feel much older, but the young man that I see every day tells me a different tale. Yes, like all mothers, I remember my son’s birth as if it were yesterday. They took him away to be evaluated while I was on the table in the operating room, shivering and shaking uncontrollably, wondering why my body had gone into shock after giving birth, and why nobody was helping me! Then, all of a sudden, help arrived in the form of a big warm blanket that enveloped me like a second skin and provided me with immediate relief from the cold. I never forget the wonderful feeling I had when the warm blanket was laid on top of me…
September 15, 2007
How can the room survive without its tenant? How long would the spirit of the boy who grew up there, linger on after his departure? Would I be able to seek this room in the future as a refuge to connect with my son? Or, at least with a part of him which he left behind? Would I be able to sense his presence, his being, by sitting on his chair in front of his computer and touching his keyboard? Would that make me sadder or happier? So many unanswered questions…
Eighteen years passed a lot faster than I expected. I don’t feel much older, but the young man that I see every day tells me a different tale. Yes, like all mothers, I remember my son’s birth as if it were yesterday. They took him away to be evaluated while I was on the table in the operating room, shivering and shaking uncontrollably, wondering why my body had gone into shock after giving birth, and why nobody was helping me! Then, all of a sudden, help arrived in the form of a big warm blanket that enveloped me like a second skin and provided me with immediate relief from the cold. I never forget the wonderful feeling I had when the warm blanket was laid on top of me…
September 15, 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment