I felt like I owed Stephen an apology.
It was Saturday, and I hadn’t seen him since Wednesday. He was gone on a school retreat all day Thursday and drove himself home late. Friday night he returned to an empty house and made himself dinner. The rest of us were at a baseball game and he went to bed early. Saturday he left again at 6am to meet the bus for his first cross country meet in Denver.
I’d meant to check in with him on Friday night to make sure he knew what time to leave for the meet and had his things ready to go, but got home too late.
I guess he figured it out, I reflected, as he careened toward me in the race, his orange racing flats flying.
“Run, Stephen, yeah!” I yelled, and in a flash he was gone again, swallowed up in a sea of sweaty boys. I hoped he saw me cheering; I hoped he knew I was there for him.
After the race I apologized that we hadn’t connected earlier in the week.
“It’s fine.” He shrugged.
“I don’t want you to feel abandoned. I feel a little like we got your license and then said ‘bye, have a nice life, Stephen!'”
He laughed. “You don’t need to feel bad. I love being independent.” His blue eyes met mine, and his smile was wide. “I love that I can do my own thing now.”
I felt torn between pride and tears. He doesn’t really need me anymore, I thought.
That night, we watched his favorite TV show together and discussed the characters and techniques they used in the show. Before bed, Stephen hugged me. “Goodnight Mom. I love you,” he said.
I smiled. He may not need me anymore, but I hope he’ll always want me.
Stephen's Mom 