Food was delicious. Company was complacent. Conversation was as he wanted.
I just monitored the fire, which was a little high at the beginning with all the shenanigans they were throwing in.
The flames eventually settled down and, to the surprise of me, everyone left by 10 p.m. and Chitunga said, "I'm going to pack down."
This leaves me 50% happy he is so responsible, and 50% distraught that he is leaving again. We don't see eye to eye as often as we should, but I love having him home. We have great conversations, he's full of respect and admiration, and he's a tremendously loving kid.
He also cleans, which is a bonus.
Yet, he needs to return to finish his undergraduate degree and to kick start his graduate one. He's ready, and I imagine the greatest frustration for him will be the fact that he's biting at the bit to start working - internships do this to you.
For me, I will simply miss is presence: the nightly hugs, the morning high-fives, the weekend-planning of what should we do next. I love knowing that I spend most of my nights working on projects and next steps, that he's upstairs doing the same.
He comes down for a bourbon around 10 pm and we discuss our days. It's love, bed, and a new beginning.
Ah, but I'm heading back to teaching, and he's heading back to learning. I'm simply thankful that he's a short distance away from Mom & Dad, Cynde, and Casey. Phew. That makes me happy.
We watched the flames last night, talking little, but observing much. A full moon was behind us and a robust summer behind followed the similar path. I will hate knowing that after today, he won't be in the house to check-up on an dot make plans with. Glamis, I don't believe, knows her buddy is returning to Syracuse.
This morning will be the traditional rough road. I love this kid. I want only the best for him.
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