Broken Dishes, Healed Hearts

A few hours from now, I will be dropping BoBo off for basic training (BMT). On one hand, it seems like we waited forever. On another, it feels like days were ripped from the calendar in twice the time.

The days, now behind me, have been a mixed bag of treasured and stressed moments. I scrambled to secure all of the things required for BoBo’s sendoff, organized a few final gatherings, and cried a few tears. I’m his mom, you know; that’s my job.

During BoBo’s 6 months at home, the balanced yin and yang of my house has transformed into the testosterone heavy environment where female energy is lacking. But I’ve somehow managed to hold my own. I sit back and watch from a distance. Sometimes my ears are perked and other times my camera raised.

The boys calling each other “pencil” or “needle” as a playful way to note manhood (or lack thereof) and, in similar fashion, calling one another “girl” in much the same way. They play basketball in the street and football in yard. While sprinklers break, bonding occurs. Inside my house there are a few extra scratches, bumps, and bruises (which no one knows exactly how happened), dishes have broken or gone missing, and many of my bathroom towels appear to have been used by auto repairmen. Somehow, it all feels normal – which is not to say that I like it. It’s odd but there it is.

Amid quite a few frustrating moments, a lot of healing has occurred. No longer do I feel like our family is broken. I now see that we are just going different places and doing different things. Different from what I dreamed of long ago but not necessarily wrong. And it’s now okay.

I look forward to us coming together again for warm hugs, good food, hard play, and most likely a bit of name-calling too.