I can’t drive yet so our youngest son has been shuttling me around here and there. So … there we were yesterday afternoon, driving the dog home from his vet appointment. Riding through the neighborhood and looking out the window, he heard me sigh. It wasn’t a subtle sigh, it was a discouraged sigh. A sigh full of longing.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked.
“Oh … I’m just frustrated” I replied.
“Everything. I can’t drive, I can hardly do anything and, quite frankly, I’m getting a little sick of it, you know?” I asked.
To which he replied, “Mom .. What is it you always tell me? That cup half full thing? You’ve gotta remember that you’ve still got a cup; you’re doing better every day. It’s ok; you’ll be ok.”
The 17 year old reassuring me.
Talk about role-reversal.
I looked over at him, noting the 5:00 shadow that so closely resembles his Dad’s. I watched as he carefully maneuvered my vehicle into the garage, taking his time so he didn’t propel old dog off the back seat and to the floor by stopping too abruptly.
With unexpected tears clouding my eyes, I put my hand over his and gave him a warm smile. Blinking my emotions away, I said the only thing I could think of, “Thanks kid.”
“You’re welcome” he replied, smiling. Followed by his daily question of: “So … do you know what’s for supper tonight?”