gunsmoke redux

Growing up, my parents would go out every Saturday night.  They had many friends and Saturday was there night to enjoy them.

Valerie and I were the designated baby-sitters for my younger sister Jean.  We didn’t mind as this was during our pre-teen years and staying home on a Saturday night posed no conflict.  We were content to stay in, eat Wise potato chips, and crawl into my parent’s bed to watch Gunsmoke from ten to eleven.  We were big fans of Marshal Matt Dillon and his exploits in Dodge City.

At the end of the show, we would retreat to our shared bedroom and go to sleep.  But I never could.  Every time a car drove down our quiet Massachusetts street, I would look out the window hoping it was my parents.  I couldn’t fall asleep until they were home.  When I saw their car lights in the driveway, I immediately felt safe, and could then, finally, close my eyes and go to sleep.

Well, here I am so many years later doing the same thing.

Today’s big news story is the impending monster storm.  Ten inches expected in the city.  Brutal cold.  Special news reports interrupt normal programming throughout the day.

Alexander has been working for his grandfather and is picked up each morning at 5am.  Wednesday night he doesn’t go to bed at all.  His explanation, “I’m not tired.  I’ll sleep when I get home.”  I am not up for arguing as he relays this news at four this morning when I hear him wandering around.

So today Alexander gets home from work around 1:30.  He has lunch with Michael.  Stays up for awhile.  Then announces around six, “I’m going to sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning.” 

But then, somewhere around eleven, Alexander comes into my room, fully awake.  “Nonno called.  There’s no work tomorrow because of the storm.  I’m going out with Peter and Ethan.”  “You can’t,” I want to say (or rather, maybe I do say).  “Then I can’t fall asleep.”

Somehow my brain prevents me from moving past stage one of sleep when my son is out. New York is a safe city but I manage to conjure all the bad news stories about young kids harmed on their way home from somewhere.  And Alexander and his friends aren't even driving.

At 1:45 I text Alexander and ask him when he’ll be home.  I know I’m being a pain and he is 21, but I need to go to sleep.  He texts me back that he is sleeping at Ethan’s.  I lock up and am almost asleep when the phone rings. Alexander has decided to come home.

Like waiting for my parents, I am now waiting for my son. And deep sleep won’t come until I know he’s home. 

Around 2:20 he walks in the door.  The snow has stopped.  Alexander is ready for bed.  And finally, I get to fall asleep.