(Do note the penguin on the top shelf. He has been faithfully turning the light on and off in my fridge for years. Most dependable penguin I’ve ever met.)

The freezer. Frozen broccoli anyone?

I headed to the store. Not the one around the corner that I usually shop at. Not the one I have walked to all summer with ONE reusable bag on my shoulder and $15 in my pocket. No, no, I went to the BIG store. And I took FOUR reusable bags with me this time.

Ahhh, a stocked freezer. Meat, cheese and veggies. I can sleep at night now.

From a half gallon of milk to two full gallons that he’ll consume within 10 days of his arrival. Veggies, fruit, salad, lunch meat….we might make it through next week before he asks me “what’s there to eat?”

When I opened the crisper to put in potatoes, cucumbers, carrots and green pepper it actually said, “I thought you had forgotten about me.” Guess I haven’t had a need for the crisper drawer all summer. Poor neglected thing. I hope the penguin has been keeping it company.

*I was talking with LM this afternoon and told him I didn’t think he could come home. “Why?” he inquired. “Well, LM, you see, I went to the grocery store today…” “Oh heavens” was his understanding reply. “LM, I just don’t think I can afford for you to come home.” “Mom? Let me ask you this. Which will cost you more, the grocery bills when I come home, or the therapy bills if I don’t?”

Touche, LM, touche.

I think it’s safe to say the Rentals have won a place in my heart. I stopped by Blockbuster today with crossed fingers and whispering a prayer that they weren’t sold out 3 hours after the store had opened for the day.

You see, tomorrow evening, I’m watching the Rentals while TB has a long overdue night out with the boys. And me? Being the most awesome babysitter in the land? I rented the latest Hannah Montana movie.

I must be sick in the head.

Or in love with these kids.

You decide. I’m too busy trying to track down 3D glasses.

A woman approached TB and me as were waiting in the church narthex for his family to arrive. She shook TB’s hand and then looked at me quizzically. She held out her hand and introduced herself as Karen. I shook her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Karen. I’m Eliza Jane”. She said, “Eliza. I’ve known your husband for quite some time but I don’t believe we’ve ever met. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

I wanted to ask if she might point my husband out to me as I’m not certain I’ve met him just yet, but I had to help TB stifle his laugh.

In 8 days my grocery bill will triple.

In 8 days my laundry will double.

In 8 days the noise in this house will move from silence to regular conversation.

In 8 days I will have to share the computer.

In 8 days I will have to consider his desires when choosing something on TV.

In 8 days he will make me laugh.

In 8 days he will tell me about his summer adventures.

In 8 days my joy will double.

In 8 days the love in this house will triple.

In 8 days he will hug me, if only reluctantly.

In 8 days, my boy comes home.

And then he drove me to the campus. And we got to see the golden dome.

And the Touchdown Jesus.

And he didn’t even know I’m a fan of Charlie Weiss and the Fighting Irish.

We love to go to the lake.
We’ve been to three different lakeside towns searching for our favorite beach. The water has been cold, too cold to entice us in for a dip, but we dip our toes in and watch the sunset and in between we talk for hours about nothing and everything.

Just a walk, side-by-side along the water, can do wonders.

We’re always amazed at the one-legged seagulls. (It’s a joke.)

God’s artwork in the sky.

Smiles and laughter.

(How come he’s exponentially more photogenic than I am?)

It’s selfish, I admit. But on most occasions when I miss my mother, I wish she could be back here with me, if only for a short while. I don’t wish her to be here suffering from cancer. I don’t wish her back if it means being in pain. But I wish her back. I want to introduce her to LM, to Birdy to George. I’d like to talk with her, hear her laugh, feel her hug.

Incomprehensibly, today marks the fifteenth anniversary of her death. Fifteen years. It can feel like yesterday and a lifetime ago all in the same blink.

But for the first time, the only time, that I’ve longed for her companionship like this, I don’t wish her back. Ever since my grandmother joined my mother in heaven this past January, I can only imagine the joy that abounds between the two. Finally reunited, physically healed, the laughter, the joy, the peace, must know no bounds. How could I ever wish that away from my mother?

For as much as I have missed my mom, I know she has missed hers. And her mother has longed to see her daughter again, just as I know my mom longs to see her children again – down the road.

Today, I celebrate that reunion in heaven. And I look forward to the day when I can join both of them in heaven, never to be apart again.

seems to be missing. I spoke with LM last night (you remember LM, right? My boy? The one who left for the summer just slightly taller than my sister and will return a whole foot taller than me? The one who has spent his summer reading books like “The Grapes of Wrath” and “Gulliver’s Travels” for his gifted class this fall? LM, the boy who forgets to call his mother for a week and then calls only to find out what razor number we use to buzz cut his hair? Yeah, that one.) I spoke with LM last night. And during the conversation I learned that his dad is currently working 14 hour days and expects to for the remainder of the summer.

So, can someone tell me, WHY ON EARTH IS MY SON THERE?!? Why didn’t my ex choose to have his son at the beginning of the summer (when LM was in Pittsburgh with my ex’s parents instead?) when he wasn’t so busy with work? Why is my son, the son I ache to see, spending his time with my ex’s PARTNER instead of with his mother?

There is a logic here I cannot follow. And a note I will definitely make for next year. Maybe it’s just because I miss him so terribly much. Maybe it’s because I got used to seeing him every single day. But this news, this information, just makes the ache that much worse. Of course, I cannot really say anything. When I moved LM out of state, I agreed the summers and vacations belonged to my ex so that he could spend time with his son.

This just isn’t what I had in mind.

It came yesterday; the first email to discuss plans to bring LM home. I’ll admit, my heart leapt just a little. While nothing is firm, and no official date set as of today, the end is beginning to come into light. It’s been 56 days already (but who’s counting?) and will be at least 70 or more before I set eyes on my more-than-likely-now-taller-than-me son.

But he’s coming home.

Soon.

It was easier, twenty years ago. This whole dating process was simpler although perhaps more dramatic.

It was enough, then, to know that he occasionally attended church. Now, I want to know which church, what beliefs, how strong is his faith, does he pray. It was enough then to know he wanted children – someday. Now I see him with his kids. I am witness to his parenting. I can see how it differs from my own.

It was enough, back then, to know he had career ambitions. Still working on his degree, his idea of a job was something that earned pizza and beer money. Now I want to know what has he been doing with his knowledge, where is he headed in his career aspirations. Has he planned for retirement?

It was enough, then, to hang out at all hours. To get together at 2 am for a donut run at Five Points. To eat a week’s worth of calories in one stop at Whitey’s Ice Cream. To be up all night playing Euchre, or sitting in the lounge watching late night TV. Now I’m accustomed to my own time, my own space. I have my own habits and desires. I want time to get ready and then time to be on my own. I want time together but balanced, measured. I still want my life. Apart.

It was enough then to not know who we would become. To sit in the hamster wheel at the park across the street and talk philosophically about the future. To know that we would grow and change and to simply believe it would always happen together. To not know what challenges the future would bring, what obstacles would be placed in our path. We were naive, and that was just fine. Now, we can see the battle scars. The fears from our past are tangible and present. We have become the people we only wondered about twenty years ago. For better and for worse and now we must face our own identities, our own shortcomings, our own disappointments as well as our successes.

It would seem an advantage now, to know who he is now, to see his career, his balance with family, his parenting. It would seem to answer all the What If questions from back then. But it doesn’t feel like an advantage. It feels like too much data. It is more difficult to know what information belongs on the scale and what doesn’t matter.

It is more difficult now, to know what is enough.

I feel in love with a man I barely knew 20 years ago, a man who barely even knew himself back then. When neither of us could have foreseen the future or our departure from each other. Now, love isn’t so easy, so straightforward, so basic. Now, love doesn’t feel so much like a blind fall, it feels like gradual steps, taken cautiously, carefully, with eyes wide open and hearts zealously guarded.