Son

 This picture of my son is from when he was here for Spring Break. I like the way the wooden hearts in the vase behind him seem to be sprouting from his collar.

Our boy ran his first post-injury track meet this weekend and was pleased with his performance. Despite the vulnerable Achilles tendon, he posted a decent time in hurdles and placed fourth in high jump, which was good, he said, because he was seeded sixth. He sounded happier and much less stressed than he's been sounding recently. Track helps relieve his good-grades anxiety.

During a phone call he made to us a week ago to discuss dropping one of his six courses so he could focus on securing good grades in the other five, he seemed wound really tight. His dad was great on the phone with him: "Do whatever makes sense to you, son." "Did you talk it over with your adviser?" "Just do your best and don't worry too much. We know you're working hard." "Remember we have your back no matter what."

I was on the extension and didn't talk much, because my husband was working his magic. After we put down the phone, I looked up and said, "Oh my God, he's like me!"

"I know," my husband said. "Poor kid."

A Day At a Time

Let's see. Here are some of the posts I didn't write.

1. My daughter, husband, niece and I had a wonderful meal at Colicchio and Sons, where the waiter made sure that the birthday girl, who follows chefs the way other girls follow movie stars, felt like the princess of the culinary world. Tom Colicchio was actually in the kitchen cooking that night, and he sent out a sumptuous amuse bouche for our table, courtesy of the house. And my daughter's dessert plate arrived with the words "Happy Birthday" tastefully scripted in thin chocolate sauce on the edge of the plate. My girl was practically levitating. (Below: My daughter and my niece tackling the dessert course.)

2. My husband did the flowers for Easter Service at our church, in tribute to his mother, who used to teach floral arrangement classes and who often did the flowers for Easter Sunday service at St. Johns Cathedral in Antigua. This was my husband's first Easter without his mother, and he wanted to honor her memory. So he got up early on Saturday morning and went down to the flower district and arrived home just past noon with long boxes of anthuriums and palm leaves and other greenery in his arms. He sat at our kitchen counter and created two beautiful large triangle arrangements for the sanctuary. It was clear to me that each flower had been carefully and individually chosen, in shades that ranged from deep red to shell pink to white. He chose anthuriums because they were his mom's favorite flowers and they also evoke the place he is from. Our minister told the church we had an artist in our midst, and he went on to tell the congregation who did the flowers and why. Everyone praised my husband's talent, and everyone felt the love that had informed the placement of each flower, palm frond and leaf. The arrangements were exotic and perfect on the wood paneled altar, a fitting tribute. Somewhere, his mom was smiling. (Below: The arrangements before transport to the church.)

3. Our son injured his achilles tendon, and was on crutches. But he was cleared to return to track practice yesterday, and is working his way back in. He is supposed to run the shuttle hurdle relay at Penn Relays next week! We will be in the stands cheering. I hope he is healed enough. (Below: My son, sunglasses on head, at a track meet at Ichan Stadium last year.)

4. My job. I am churning with anxiety over the unknown. I tell myself, a day at a time. I tell myself that no matter what transpires, I will find my way through.

Faster, Higher, Stronger

My son qualified for states in the pentathalon, hurdles and high jump. He competed in the pentathalon last weekend and was third in the state in high jump, 11th overall, and achieved three PRs (personal records) in high jump, shot put and 1000 meters. He equaled his PR in hurdles, but did abysmally in long jump, hence his 11th place finish. But hey, 11th place isn't half bad in a field of hundreds, so kudos, son!

He competes in states hurdles this weekend, and high jump next weekend. And his coach is sending his hurdles shuttle relay team to Penn Relays! That is huge in the track world, and doubly huge if you are a Jamaican (or of Jamaican extraction). Jamaica has a world-class track and field tradition (hello, Usain Bolt! Hello all those streaks of fast in their yellow and green track uniforms at the last summer Olympics!).

Every year in Jamaica, high schools hold island-wide track and field championships at the National Stadium, and it is a really big deal. When I was growing up, our whole school turned out to cheer for our athletes, and coaches from the U.S. were always in attendance, looking for college recruits. The winning relay acts always went to Penn Relays, and usually aquitted themselves admirably on the world stage. Imagine what that meant to a dot on the map in the Caribbean Sea. Well, we Jamaicans might be from a dot on the map but as my husband likes to point out, our egos are hardly contained by that dot. My son likes to tease by saying I made him fast and his dad slowed him down, since Antigua, where my husband is from, has no such track mojo. But our boy is doing his best with what he got! He loves athletics and may well be pursuing the perfect career for himself in his excercise science and human performance major.

This is what his last Sunday was like: He woke to play in an intramural soccer game at 7:30 am, then traveled to get to his states meet by 10:30 am. He competed in states till 4:30 pm, then went back to his dorm, slept till 7 pm, got up and studied with friends until midnight (we spoke to him during the study interlude and his dorm room was full of camped-out people, whom he maintained were all assiduously working), then he took a break at midnight to play in a club basketball game, then went to bed at 3 am. Whew!

I'm hearing a lot about athletics from our boy, but not so much about academics, so I was glad to hear some studying elbowed its way into his Sunday schedule. I hear he and his roommate have rigged up a hammock in their room, as their third roommate didn't return this semester. Okay, I didn't hear, I saw the picture on Facebook of my son in the hammock with a book in hand and a cheesy grin on his face. He seems to be having a blast. I do hope he's keeping all engines firing at the same time!

"We are the champions..."

This afternoon, my son graduates from high school. I have no words adequate to express what this feels like. So I'll post this pics from Saturday's City Championship meet instead. That's my boy at the left side of the frame, holding the circular plaque. He's surrounded by some of his closest friends, young men with whom he's made the (stunningly fast) four-year journey through high school. Now that we're at the end, I can look back and say the school was an excellent choice for him. Back when he was in eighth grade, he wanted a co-ed high school. He was completely opposed to all boys. But he agreed to look at this school, which his parents had fallen in love with. He had a great time the day he visited, it was called a "shadow day." The teachers made him laugh. The boys made him feel part of the crew. So he went there. Now he says, if he had it to do again, knowing what he knows, he'd choose that school again in a heartbeat. No better endorsement than that.

Force of Will

My son decided he wasn't going to miss City Championships. He wasn't going to be absent for the last big track meet of his high school career. I watched him will himself better these last couple of days, and don't you know, he is there now, at Ichan Stadium, competing with his teammates one last time.

He just ran the 110m high hurdles. He was running carefully, making sure not to collide with anything, not hurling his body through space as he usually does, but his dad says he looked steady. Now he's doing high jump.

The nurse from his doctor's office has a son who also runs high school track. When she saw my son at the meet, looking thinner, but hale all the same, her mouth fell open in a perfect O. Can you say miraculous recovery? Still, I feel a secret sense of comfort that she's there.

I know he's not all the way back, though. Last night, at 10:30 pm, he got up from the couch and announced, "Well, I have a meet tomorrow morning. I'm going to bed." That was the first time in his 17 plus years on the planet that he has ever gone to bed voluntarily! Ever since he was a baby, he just passes out, loses consciousness wherever he is when his body runs out of gas for that day, usually on the couch in front of the TV. The only time he ever falls asleep in his bed is when we chase him there, which we don't do anymore because, well, he's almost grown and about to leave home. So last night, when he climbed into his bed and was asleep in minutes, I knew his body still had more recovering to do.

His dad drove him to the meet this morning and stayed with him so he wouldn't have to battle public transportation. This is my husband's last meet too, which makes it bittersweet. He has attended almost every one and most of the soccer games, too, over these last four years. My son says often, "My friends think my dad is mad cool." I totally agree with them.

Update: My son made it into the semifinals, contributed some points to his team, and they won the championship! What a great finish for the senior class. There were some disappointments: A couple of all-stars got edged out of first in their races. And one of my son's closest friends, Jordan, had to take second place in high jump for the first time in his high school career.

Jordan was crushed, especially because he won't have a chance to redeem himself. The other kid PR'ed at a height of six-foot-eight, which Jordan has jumped before but didn't at this meet. He was a good sport about it, but said ruefully, "And I'd been talking so much trash about winning, too." Actually, I think it might be a good thing that he lost. It makes him hungry again right at the moment that he enters college, reminds him of what it feels like to dig deep and compete. But I didn't say that to him when he came by our house. I'm sure he wasn't in the mood to hear that.

Lucky for him, my daughter had made mini fruit tarts for her cousins (both of them left today), and Jordan thoroughly enjoyed two. My son kept rushing him because they were late for a party. "Come on, man, just stuff that in and let's go!" And Jordan, gentleman that he is, replied, "No, this has to be savored." My daughter just beamed and said nothing.

Yes, my son went out to a party after the meet. I take that back about his body needing to recover more. His mind says he's back, so it would seem that he is. I'm glad he's rallied. But now my husband isn't feeling well. I think he'll just stay in bed tomorrow.