on my own again, soon

Alexander has claimed the living room as his bedroom.  When my mom was visiting, he slept there, and then decided he preferred the sofa to his bed.  It is colder in the living room; the air conditioner is there.  In the morning, I now find linens and pillows strewn across my sofa.

Alexander’s clothes come off his body and land on a chair. It’s not worth the argument to remind him of how little effort is involved in putting his clothes into the nearby laundry basket.  Or closing a drawer after it has been opened.

 

I go into the refrigerator to grab a piece of fruit.  I count five bottles of Poland Spring, all opened, and all partially drunk.  Alexander opens a new bottle whenever he is thirsty, conveniently forgetting the one he opened and didn’t finish the night, or even hour, before.

Most of my day, when I’m home, is spent in my bedroom where my computer is.  If I venture into the living room when Alexander is home, he will ask, “How long do you plan on being here?”  He finds my presence distracting.

I go into my bathroom and there are three big towels hanging in one small space, plus a bathing suit or two.  It amazes me how many towels my son uses at camp, and then again when he comes home.  Showering is a challenge, as I don’t want to re-wet any of the towels that are partially dry.  My bathroom is now always a mess.

 

When Alexander goes out at night, I find it hard to fall asleep until he is home.  I worry about all sorts of bad things happening.  I always feel safer knowing he is safe.  When he is at school and I don’t know what he’s doing and when he’s out, I don’t worry as much.

My apartment will be neater when Alexander returns to school next week.  I will have more space. Maybe I'll worry less.  And no one will tell me to go to my room. 

But, still I will miss him.  I wish he weren't leaving so soon.