Boys come forth with their big noisy presence, ready to save the world for us, though not quite yet.
I sit in my room and listen to the racket, feel the walls vibrate with drumbeats, a reassuring sound – and the scent of pepperoni pizza, the frozen kind, dripping cheese on the oven – a familiar smell, a reassuring one. All is well with the teenaged hunk, doing the things they do to pass the time, feeling at home for these last weeks in the parents’ domain.
So why do I dream of my own teen self, the girl who played her guitar and dreamed of boys like this? Perhpas it’s the illusion or perhaps fact, that soon the empty nest will be the beginning of a new creativity. Will I learn another language and musical instrument?
Will I write songs full of that teenage longing?
Not much to add to this one. My youngest is off to college in a month and my mother’s heart is a girl’s heart as well, living it all over again.