Picture this if you will. Last night at approximately 9:30pm I went upstairs to deliver the final 'go to sleep' message to the wee ones. The boy was in the girl's bed and I separated them in order to help bring peace and quiet.
At 9:32pm I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and going to the back door. The boy, in his jammies, put on his shoes and his bright yellow raincoat and proceeded to go outside clutching his two stuffed frogs -- Reebeet and Peebeet -- tightly to his chest.
'Where are you going?' I asked.
'Away. I'm going to live with my daddy. He left so why can't I.'
It was raining. Lightly. I followed him outside. I suggested that he come back in and we give his dad a call.
'No. I don't want to talk to him. But I'm serious. I'm leaving.'
Tears welled up in my eyes, fell down my cheeks and mixed with the rain. Barefoot, I walked with him as he approached the road and turned to continue down the sidewalk. He kept a few feet ahead but stopped every 4 or 5 steps in order to turn around and make sure I was still there.
We walked like this for awhile in silence. We turned the corner and a car stopped and the driver and passenger asked me for directions. It was surreal. My son and I both stopped and seemed to break out of our trance. I provided the information and turned, once again, to look at the boy. We stood facing each other in the rain. Neither of us were moving. It was not so much a stand off but a recognition of the distance between us. A recognition that he was angry, scared, confused and frustrated; that we both were. A recognition that getting older was hard. A recognition that even the relationship between a mother and son required attention. Work. I held out my hand and, at first, he backed away.
I remembered a favourite poem of mine (of course I can't for the life of me remember the author or title right now). The poem depicted a scene wherein a mother and son are outside and the son goes too close to the edge of a cliff. The mother could not cry out for fear that her son, becoming startled, would fall. Instead, she opened up her blouse revealing her breasts. The boy, seeing this, runs towards her into her embrace and safety.
I told the boy that I loved him and that I would not leave him. I told him that I would stay with him regardless of how many 'even ifs' he could come up with. He reached out and grabbed my hand. We walked, side by side back to the house. I brought him up to his bed and held him until he fell asleep.
Tears and rain remained moist upon my cheeks.
