This past Thursday night I did not sleep well at all, a combination of pain and stress. I took extra pain medication but as a result I dealt with insomnia. Anyways on Friday you can pretty much say I was a total utter mess and by the time the teenage boy returned home from his university classes, I was hanging by a thread.
As usual, we chatted about his classes and then he made the mistake of asking me about my day. All started out well, but when I started talking about middle child’s depression and feelings of sadness, I completely fell apart, and this is when the teenage boy became a young man. Instead of running away from his mother who was bawling her eyes out, he came over to the couch, sat beside me and held me while I cried and cried and then blew my nose over and over again. Once I settled down, he went on his way, to do whatever he does after school. Later on that evening, my best friend phoned to give us the details of the concert she was taking the teenage boy to on Saturday night. After I finished speaking with her, the teenage boy wanted to chat with her. I did think it was weird when he took the phone to the basement for privacy, so when he returned I asked him why? His response, which I thought was quite funny was “I have a personal relationship with your best friend too”. I burst out laughing, but she is considered his aunt, so I thought nothing more of their telephone conversation.
An hour later, as I sat on the couch, doing nothing particular, someone knocked on the door and who walked in, but my best friend. The reason the teenage boy had gone downstairs to chat with her on the phone, was to ask her a favour. He had asked her to come over and visit me because I was sad. I love my son. I love my best friend, who came over when I needed her.
The teenage boy is a young man and the best friend of twenty-nine years is a keeper.