Sometimes They Come Back

Claire and AdamAlthough Stephen King wrote a great short story by the same title, this is not a review of said story. Adam Boy moved home last Saturday. So did Claire, the dog, cat and bunny….

As we drove to Ypsilanti on Saturday morning to pick up the first load from Adam and Claire’s apartment, the song Home by Phil Phillips came on the radio. Of course it prompted me to pull my notebook and pen from my purse and start penning notes for a post. While the song played, I became anxious for them to move back in. I’ve missed them. I miss all four of my children, but there is a special kinship I have with my Adam Boy. I swear to you he is the only person that “gets” me. Er, my humor anyway.

His sarcastic wit is sharp, and he’s incredibly ambitious. My boy was the one I worried about most when he was young. ADHD ruled him most of his school career. Then a switch turned on his junior of high school and he began to flourish. Clairee, his girlfriend and I call him a snobby genius hipster, but he’s earned the title. When we share words he wows me. Not to worry though, if he gets too snotty I’m not afraid to tell him to stop being an arrogant fuck.

I’m glad Clairee came home to live with us too. No one has questioned us about her moving in. They better not. She is our other daughter and the love of our son’s life. Her mother was my soul sister and since she passed away, Roger Darling and I have loved her as our own. She’s part of the move in package and we are proud to have her. Clair loves our boy. She understands him, which I can assure you is no easy task some days.

Tonight the kids are still getting settled in. The Wonder Schnauzers and Baxter the Wiggle Butt Lab are exhausted from playing outside all evening. All in all it’s been good. I’m sure there will be issues that arise in the next year. There will probably be arguments and messes made. We’ll make it though. The kids will move out when Adam starts law school and the house will be quiet again.

I hope the next empty nest syndrome cycle is shorter, and I won’t be sad when they fly. It will be nice to be able to do the dirty dirty with Roger Darling whenever we want to again.

They Called Our Town Death Valley

The teenagers from the surrounding towns called our town Death Valley.

I remember standing in front of Adam’s casket. I was 17. He was 17. He had on his high top sneakers. They were shiny and red. At least I think they were red. It was so long ago, I don’t really remember. He wore high tops all the time though. Of every damn color you could imagine. He was wearing the requisite 80’s men’s blazer. Sleeves rolled up of course. Our Adam. His face was at peace, but we weren’t. He’d lost his life a few days before. Driving under the influence of so many things and driving way too damn fast. His head was so damaged from the accident. The casket was open because he was Greek Orthodox, but it shouldn’t have been. He looked dead. He looked horrible. I sobbed as I stood there and I had my senior picture in my hand.

When I was talking to Tracy this week I recalled a conversation I’d had with Adam. It was a snow day during our Junior year of high school. He told me he liked me for more than a friend. I told him I felt the same. Then he broke my tender teenage heart. He told me if we did go out, he would just use me. I thanked him for being honest but inside I was devastated. I longed to taste his kiss, and hold his hand. Hey, we were teenagers, we hadn’t got to the whole sex thing yet.

I stood in front of his casket and cried. Thought about his ending. About us as survivors. The surviving teenagers in Death Valley, Saline, MI. The deaths weren’t over yet. There would be more accidents, a heart attack, a suicide. We’d lose more of our youth, our innocence. And our immortality. I looked at Adam’s face one more time. I said goodbye to his life and his light. His beautiful smile. I dropped my senior picture onto his chest, along with the hundreds of others. Then I turned to my friends and hugged them. We then went outside to the porch and had a smoke with the rest of my stoner friends.

MRI’s, EEG’s and Adam Boy

Today is not a very good day for this sparkly girl. Today I have to go with my sweet, sarcastic ass of a son to have an MRI and EEG. He needs to have these tests to see if he has MS. No that’s not Ms, which I am even though I’ve been a Mrs. for 23 years. That’s Multiple Sclerosis. I’ve been thinking about him so much today. Praying. Hoping. Wishing. See,, in five days my baby will be 21. He’s just starting this wonderful life of his. He’s living on his own with the wonderful Clairee and their new puppy, Baxter. He wants to be a lawyer. He’s prepping for that. Learning about taking the LSAT. Finding out which schools he wants to apply to. There’s Wayne State, University of Michigan, Northwestern, and Wisconsin (his personal choice, why he wants to be a Badger instead of a Wolverine is beyond me).

How did my boy get to be so smart? How did I get so lucky to have such a good kid? I think of all the trials of raising him. My boy with ADHD and anxiety. Shyness and a stutter too. Now I see this vibrant young man. This kid that wants to be a judge some day, and I pray that he’s okay. I have to realize that even if he does have MS, he has an incredible future. That he CAN and WILL be everything he wants to be. He will finish college, he will go to law school and he will be a success. With MS or without, he will be a success.

So dear readers, think of my son today. Pray if you believe, and if you don’t, pray anyway. No matter what the outcome of these test are, I know my son will still be a star. I know he will.

Thank you.