Fall Breaks and Back to Winter

Not an entirely accurate title--we're not really on a "break" in any meaningful sense of the word--but it's the title of one of my favorite Beach Boys tunes, an instrumental subtitled "The Woody Woodpecker Symphony" from their notoriously drug-addled follow-up to Pet Sounds, the semi-legendary Smiley Smile.

But it does signify an important moment in our mental calendar: Thing Two has returned from boarding school for the weekend.  Granted, that weekend didn't begin until 1:00 Saturday, after he'd gotten his tie cut off in the annual ceremony of pseudo-circumcision that turns New Boys into ordinary students, and it will end when we drop him off at his play rehearsal at 2:30 this afternoon, but we've had him in the house, with the dog, for the last twenty-odd hours, which has been a big relief to everyone.  WFS likes parents to give their sons a chance to achieve some self-reliance during the early days of Year One, so Kelly and I have tried hard--very hard--to provide him the necessary space.  We've talked with him via email and occasionally dropped off things for him in his room, but for the most part, we've tried to behave as though we weren't living a mere mile and a half from his dorm.

It wasn't terribly easy to do.

But now we don't have to do it any more.  We can take him off campus for a meal once in a while, get his laundry done from time to time, and chat with him in the hallways without embarrassment.  He can come home and visit the dog once in a while, which may keep him (the dog) from being quite so psychotic. Last night we went to Target to buy a new tie, and we ended up getting a new hat and a small stuffed animal "Grue" figure (the clerk called it "Domo," but he's calling it "Grue") as well.  We ate at Chick-Fil-A at his request, then came home and watched several episodes of Veronica Mars.  A nice, normal weekend, the first we've had in six weeks. That was a welcome break.

And today the air is crisp, the sky is a crystalline blue, the Norway maple in the back yard is waving yellow leaves in the breeze, and I've got a large mug of French vanilla coffee beside me as I type.  If it weren't for the enormous pile of papers burning a hole in my backpack, I'd feel almost relaxed again.

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This page contains a single entry by Peter Cashwell published on October 19, 2008 8:10 AM.

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