I miss this boy of mine who is now a man. I go into his room sometimes and just stand there, thinking that maybe I will put his clothes piled up on the far side of his bed into a suitcase till he returns at the end of summer. The clothes are folded for the most part and sit on top of a trunk, also full of who knows what. I appreciate that he tucked them out of the way on the far end of the room. Usually I stand there for a while and look at them, evidence that he has been here and will be coming back soon. And then I turn and walk back out of the room.
Oh Sugar. Jessie's room still holds so many of her things. So many.
ReplyDeleteI understand.
The image of you, standing in his room, is haunting. The image of him -- such a gorgeous young man.
ReplyDeleteIf they're folded, I'd say that's half the battle. :)
ReplyDeleteSeriously, I'm sure you do miss him. He's home, yet he's not. A strange in-between state.
Oh, I do know that standing, in the presence of one's absent children. And how we are able to feel so much of them, despite the space....
ReplyDelete