Not normally one to like surprises I am of a mixed mind over this one.

My son’s live-in and I have never managed to connect. On any level. First my son said she is terrified of me. Made me laugh, then feel very sorry, then wondered if perhaps she ought to feel so? After all, my son is no longer the free-thinking spontaneous joy-filled young man I not so long ago knew. She has morphed and twisted him into a dour, somber, walking-on-eggshells house boy, either with criticism, manipulation or some other feminine affectation by which I am not familiar or amused at this contortion.

A few days ago running errands, taking my husky-mix rescue dog Lily for her well visit to her vet and delivering some Christmas presents I noticed my son had tried to call. I normally do not know where my cell phone is but had left it in the car this time. It has since again gone missing. So I called him back. Small talk. Weather reports. Bombshell. “Are you going to be home? We have plane tickets, we are arriving Christmas Eve.” Silence. Normally I get a couple more weeks’ notice than 10 days. Normally it is a relaxed interchange where I get to squeal delightedly. This time I felt cornered. Like this is something that has to fit in the picture of some badly illustrated bedtime story.

And I had been savoring my flexibility here. Maybe I’d go back to Texas to see my brother again. Maybe I’d spend my first Christmas by myself, enjoying its meaning, walking along my sandy beach letting the sound of the tide lull me into a summery rest in wintertime.

No. Harshness, insistence, as if someone is pulling his puppet strings which, prior to now he has never had.

So I am beginning to think this also may involve a wedding date. I hope it is also my son’s wish. So far I have not seen or felt the love there.

Maybe I will take that trip to Italy…


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