I'm listening to my older son sing Led Zeppelin's "Dazed and Confused" in the bathroom while he gets ready to go out. He just came home from a weekend camping trip, but he can't stay home for long for the call of the world is something he is compelled to follow. I used to say it was the wild that calls to him, but it's not; rather, it's his life, and his own way of being in it.

It was sweet how he came home today telling the people he was with that it was time to go because his mom would be worried. He was right, I was and mostly always am. I turned my phone on all day awaiting a message from him, knowing there would be none, but it made me feel better to look. After I came home from my bike ride I asked, "Did my son call?" I looked at the clock every once in awhile and waited. I secretly thought to myself, '..if he is dead up in Findlay there is no one to know who he is because I found his license in my car yesterday where it had fallen out of his pocket and he didn't notice..' ~ I assumed it was a sure sign that this would be the weekend he would need it, and the one in which he didn't have it. I put it in a safe place and muttered, "Stupid kid."

Riding my bike this afternoon, it occurred to me that it isn't the children who need to be taught how to test their wings, they know exactly what to do. It's us who need to untether our young and let them fly; and it's the mothers and fathers who need to let go, and re-learn to fly on our own.

I was laying in bed with Royce late this afternoon reading a magazine and heard the familiar sounds of his feet on the stairs and my mind soared back into my body, my heart went back to it's regular beat, and his beautiful smile came around the edge of my door.

I said hi, and lifted my body up to embrace him and he took me into his arms that more often than not seem to find that kind of affection with me uncomfortable these days. It's o.k., as it should be.. but, these moments of being allowed to hold him again are all the more precious. He let me touch his hair and I asked him if he had a good time. He said, "Oh yeah, I had a great time." Typically parenting seems to incline us to discipline the child who doesn't call, set boundaries and impart shame on the child who thoughtlessly doesn't let us know where he is. I'm not that kind of parent though. He came home to me with no explanations, no excuses, just sheer joy not only to share with me that which was leftover from his great time, but also from seeing me. I could tell he was so glad to be here and that I was ready to hear about all he'd done. And I was and I am.

He's just left again, "Mom, do you know where I put my skateboard?" I do and tell him so. He's gone with not even a goodbye.