on saturday, my son returned home from 2 weeks at camp. as usual, he appeared to have grown a solid foot taller (which would make him over 7 feet tall!), his hair was sun-bleached to a beach bum dark honey and his skin was bear brown. his hug felt so warm and welcoming.
the three of us spent the car ride home talking about everything he experienced, did, said and thought about for the two weeks. we fell back into conversation as if just a moment had passed, not a fortnight.
i'm a worrier and therefore, i've spent a goodly portion of these last two weeks with a nagging lump in my throat, a tightness in my lower back and some nights a bit sleep-deprived. i, of course, have no reason to worry. none of my dedication to worrying has ever reaped any reward. nothing comes of worry. this i know. but still, it is such a huge part of who i am, i am wont to abandon this tendency. i could, however, probably build a new house with my own two hands with the energy i have devoted to this task throughout the years.
i have been known to work myself into such a lather on the car ride between my office and our house, that i ultimately squeal into the driveway at home and rush through the front door panting a breathless, "is everything okay?!" only to be met with two doe eyed couch sitters uttering whisper-y, "yes and why are you in such a state?" i have no reply.
on saturday night i slept the sleep of the dead. on sunday morning i woke up at 10:30 a.m. (anyone who knows me will tell you, that in my world, that is unheard of). my baby was home, asleep in his bed, and my worrying (for one day) could be done.