My son lives in Atlanta and, as a chef, works crazy hours including weekends and holidays. I don’t get to see him often and, when I do, it’s usually just a brief visit. A whole week was a gift.
I’m fond of saying to expectant parents that no one ever tells you how much fun kids are. And, hoo boy, young souls make my soul sing. But I’m learning that there’s a lot of fun and satisfaction in older children. My son is very much an adult and living a self-actualized life. He’s intelligent, articulate and has a wicked good sense of humor. I enjoy talking to him. I enjoy sitting in companionable silence with him. I enjoy watching him play with his dogs.
He cooks for me, sometimes, when he comes home. This time I bought a filled-to-the-brim grocery cart of quick and easy stuff so he wouldn’t have to cook, but he chose to anyway. We had a quite marvelous Ricotta Gnocchi Bolognese that was so good we ate it for 3 days without tiring of it. I said, as I often say when Chef Boy ‘R Mine cooks, that it was the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. And it was.
After the first round of Gnocchi Bolognese when I was still high on the endorphins of good food, I had no sooner settled into a glass of after-dinner wine when he announced he was going to go wax my car. I wondered aloud if I was dying and no one had told me. He had cooked and done most of the cleaning up and was still willing to spend 4 ½ hours waxing my car.
At night, by lamplight, he waxed my car. Not just waxed it, but washed it, clayed it, compounded it, did this and did that and then something else. This was not just a wax job, but the kind of attention a car gets with a $400 detailing job.
When I walk to my car, I see a sparkle and shine that reminds me that I have a son who loves me and is willing to spend his vacation days with me. Adult children, I’m finding, are a great joy. Life is good.