Long F#$%%^^ing Day

May 19, 2013

This morning at 5:30 my son was driven by his father to meet his basketball coach. Colin had a game to play in Fitchberg today and since neither his Dad or I were able to take the time off to drive him, (it’s about an hour and a half away,) his coach kindly offered to give him a ride. I didn’t say good bye to him. Or maybe I did. Five thirty in the morning feels like a very long way away from now.

Long story short, and I mean very long story, short, until 9:30 tonight I didn’t speak to my son. Or his coach. Or any of his fellow team mates. I called the director of the basketball program. I called my son’s other coach, who knows my son’s current coach to find out what he thought of the man that drove my son to Fitchberg at 6 o’clock in the morning. At about 7 pm I took an opinion poll at a going away party I was at  to see if people thought I should be concerned at not being able to reach him. I called my mother. I told the woman behind the register at the CVS.

He finally called  at 9:45. Even though he left with only eight dollars in his pocket a fact I told every one when I was telling them my tale of woe and worry, he said he had had enough to eat. He said he had fun at the games, that he had played well. He said he would be home soon, and would call me when they was getting close. When we hung up, he told me he loved me. That was kind, I’m sure he was a little horrified at the flurry of text messages and voice mails from me, his father and head of the AAU program.

When I talked to my mom, she chuckled. Not hysterical laughter, or obnoxious you-are-a-craz-idiot- guffaw, just a quiet, beneath her breath, low kind of chuckle.  Maybe she thought I was too busy inside my hysterics to hear it.

She told me “He’s growing up. Colin’s smart, and he’s fine, and he’s had enough to eat. I promise.”

And she was right.

She also told me I couldn’t bury one of those satellite gps’s under his armpit while he was sleeping. Or make him quit basketball and take up ping pong in the neighbor’s basement.

She told me Colin is growing up, and there isn’t a helluva a lot I can do about it.

And she didn’t say it, but I got the impression she was trying to prepare me for the fact that this is just the beginning. It is going to get much, much worse, at least from my point of view.

I’m hoping that if this whole teenage growing up thing makes me utterly panicked and miserable, that he has a wonderful time. That he scores many, many baskets, survives a thousand crushes, makes a few true friends, eats his vegetables and shares his pizza, swims, and runs, laughs like an idiot, and cries when he needs to. Personally, I would like him to do all of this, and get enough sleep, but that’s reaching a bit.

But I am going to get him a charger for his damn cell phone.

One Response to “Long F#$%%^^ing Day”

  1. Jules,kind of a wasted day, with the worry. We didn’t have cell’s , or really any means to communicate with the homebase, till we walked in the back door, sweaty, bug-bitten, tired and hungry, at about nine, when we couldn’t see anymore of the day that kept us occupied, from sunup. The parents just smiled, they knew.

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