an ordinary day

It was your average Saturday afternoon. While the entire red and black world hunkered down a few miles up the road in Sanford Stadium with the Dawgs, my son Ty and I took advantage of the lull in 441 traffic to hit the neighborhood Publix. Cupboards were bare, and the boys trembled at the fact of no homemade cookies.

Ty on his 22nd birthday in 2011.

I'm not sure how the conversation meandered into an emotional realm, but we were remembering. Remembering days that were not so good, struggles that were way too hard, and memories that burned holes way too deeply. And then, as I often do, I skimmed over my role in history, regretted some of my choices and wished I had done things differently - a sentiment most parents share.

Then, from out of the blue, with no warning, he said, "Mom, you are amazing."

It shook me to the core and proof quickly slipped from the corner of my eye. That 23-year-old man driving his papa's Ford F150 would always be that mischievous kid in whitey-tighties covered in red Georgia clay, prancing around in his semi-birthday suit, slinging a garden hose in his front yard, but today, he had managed to reach into his heart to assemble the perfect phrase. And he didn't stop. "You really are. You are amazing. Look at everything you've done. Everything you've achieved, teaching and writing. You are an incredible writer. I can't write like that and you play the piano. I love to hear you play."

Yikes! Did I hear right? For most of my life, I had longed to hear words of praise from the three people that mattered most in the world. Just acknowledge me, please, is all I ask. Let me know you know me. Come to find out, they did.

My reason for breathing: Logan, Mari, Len and Ty.

This was a reflection on who I was as a human, a woman, not simply as a mother or cookie maker. All those day-to-day processes were more than cliche. They watched me make those PB&Js and realized my fingers only worked so fast. They eyed me in my classroom and accepted the fact that, second to them, there was no place that I'd rather be. They listened to my rare tunes plunked out on my daddy's old upright piano and heard my lonely melody.  They cried with me as we walked away from dark yesterday into a phantom tomorrow. They understood my desire to be better that day than I was the day before.They didn't judge when I fell short or when life got in the way. Well, maybe for a moment, but as the entire picture unfolded, they recognized that mom was one that never stopped dreaming - for them or for herself. Most of the time, I thought they were too busy being kids, too caught up with Power Rangers or tennis tournaments, too occupied with their place in the universe to realize that my grown-up world ran simultaneously alongside theirs.

I was validated! I like to think Ty cast the ballot for the absentees, and I pray they get me. I guess the more important musing is - I get me. After Ty's disclosure, I started mentally listing my accomplishments and was rather amazed. I recognize and salute these in other people. Why can't I dare to do the same in the mirror? I suppose its a hodgepodge of being Southern, a woman, an only child, a perfectionist, a creative, a dreamer, a romantic - the list is tiring. The list is me. A damn good me.

So I'm taking this amazing, damn good me on the road setting more goals and scaling more rainbows.  I'm planning my upcoming itinerary, and I'm excited. Most of all, I'm thankful I have excellent company along the way.