That's been my question to Alexander just about every weekend since he left last December.
And I always get the same response.
"I'm not sure yet. Maybe."
By Thursday the maybe has morphed into I think next weekend I might come home.
I love seeing my son. Even if it's just a quick dinner and maybe an episode of SVU.
Finally, around Wednesday of this week, Alexander surprises me with, "Im coming home for the weekend."
I begin thinking of where we can go for dinner.
I begin thinking of where we can go for dinner.
But by the next day, the weekend has been shortened. "I'm not coming home Friday. I don't feel like rushing to jump on a bus after working all week." Alexander lives in Philadelphia and it's only a two hour trip and he is only 24. Still, I understand.
I get home from work on Saturday around 8. Alexander has already come home, dropped his stuff, and left for a Knicks game with Daniel. On the table I find this note.
It's an exact replica of the kind I leave for him.
I get home from work on Saturday around 8. Alexander has already come home, dropped his stuff, and left for a Knicks game with Daniel. On the table I find this note.
It's an exact replica of the kind I leave for him.
Around one a.m. Alexander announces his arrival home. I wake up and we talk for a few minutes.
In the morning I kiss him good-bye before leaving for work, and by the time I get home he's back in Philadelphia.
I see him for a total of 15 minutes. His funny note makes me smile; the empty toilet roll in the bathroom doesn't.
In the morning I kiss him good-bye before leaving for work, and by the time I get home he's back in Philadelphia.
I see him for a total of 15 minutes. His funny note makes me smile; the empty toilet roll in the bathroom doesn't.
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