I spent my first night alone in my new home last night.
I use the word “home” on purpose, intentionally NOT calling it a house. In fact, the first purchase I made was a door mat for the front door that says “Home” on it.
You cannot imagine the peace that came over me when I placed that mat on the porch. I even backed up a little to see if it stood out as much as I’d hoped. It did.
I actually, finally, spent my first night in the home on Friday the 11th. However, it was also the first night that I had my son with me in the new place.
Despite all of the work it took to move my stuff over from my old house(intentional) to my new home, we were both grateful to spend the first night in our new home.
He was fantastic! We both were. There was so little stress and tension in the house. He volunteered to help with everything: putting away food, doing dishes, making beds. . .I finally said, “Look! You’re fourteen. Go play some video games while I finish, then we’ll get something to eat.” Of course, I said it nicely and jokingly, and we both laughed, because he knew those words rarely came out of my mouth.
I told him there will be plenty of chores to do once everything is in its place.
So, he spent two nights with me, made his bed every morning, and asked what we were doing “today.” Time was short, so we stayed home, and played his game. I sucked at it, but we were both laughing so hard, it didn’t matter that the zombies won.
Too soon, my short “week” was over, having been spent moving stuff in, and waiting for our “beds in a box” to arrive. It took way longer than I anticipated, so I was deprived of most of my first week with him.
It was difficult dropping him off at his mother’s house Sunday night. I could tell he didn’t want to go by his lingering. And he always asks if I am alright since I had two stents put in my heart last July.
He told me to check in every day so he knew I was alright. I said, “That’s my line. I’m the Dad.” He said, “Yeah, but you’re the one that had the heart thing.” God, I love that kid!
I walked him into his Mother’s house so I could pick up a small load of stuff I had left there. Before I left, he came up and gave me a big, long hug. I nearly broke, then. But I knew I couldn’t.
Instead, we started patting each other on the back, and I whispered to him 3 times, which is our thing, “I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy. This is the best thing ever!”
We let each other go simultaneously. He went upstairs without looking back. I walked outside to my car, and put my stuff in the trunk, got in the car and drove away.
A block later, I pulled over because I couldn’t see from the tears in my eyes.
After a few moments, I drove home. As I drove, I whispered to myself, “I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy. I hope you are, too. See you next week, pal.”
I hope this made you smile a little. Even in my struggles, I try to find a little humor, and always blame others for my misfortunes.
Here’s me: Chuck Roast is a writer, author, word generator, hack, scribbler, literary genius, penman, scribe, litterateur, poet in residence (my home), satirist, and humorist (“humourist” for those of you who like the “incorrect” spelling)for Medium and, once upon a time,a Top Writer in Satire and Humor, current owner/editor/writer of his own Publication, Dad-Bods, which is currently seeking followers and writers.
His only curation, in Poetry, for his poetic story, Remember the Founders and Their Reasons.
Here are the links to his accounts, LinkedIn, Twitter. Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Write On! Write well, write good, and write enough!
Please comment! I’d love to hear from you!
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This post was previously published on Medium.com.
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Photo credit: Brett Jordan on Unsplash