Him: its going well how about u
Me: Working. Finished writing a book. You know! I look forward to seeing you. Miss you. xo
Him: How was it and i look forward to seeing you too Miss you
Me: how was writing a 230 page book? arduous, emotional and immensely gratifying. xo
Him: I cant even write a one page essay hahaha
Me: Yes you can. It takes practice just like everything else in life. Let me know if you ever need help. You're funny, and I bet you could write funny if you wanted to. See you Saturday. xo
I finished writing my book, and a week later, I texted my ex's son to make plans to see him. It had been a couple of months and the two events had beautifully converged.
It stills make my heart skip a beat when he inquires about me; what I'm doing, how I'm doing. Friends who have kids tell me that it's rare that their teenagers don't answers their texts, let alone engage them in a dialogue.
It would be too easy for me to doubt, mistrust or excuse his words away as something that he says just to be nice. Then again, what if it is? It wouldn't change a thing for me or how I feel about him.
After I spent the day with his sister, we drove to the outdoor cafe where he works. She and I stood off to the side, waiting for him to look up and notice us. We didn't want to flail our arms around in the hopes of getting his attention, causing a scene or getting him into trouble.
After several minutes, he looked up; his long, wavy brown hair, held back by a headband that boys his age are wearing these days. His face immediately lit up and he smiled. I smiled back.
Sure I noticed his reaction, but I took it in stride and kept my giddiness to myself. Over the years, I've learned not to attach too much meaning (or any meaning) to the acts, words and feelings that go on in our relationship because as it evolves and morphs, I'm constantly redefining it.
I was only too happy to see him and to give him an embarrassingly long hug, especially since he was on the clock and there were many people around. It always surprises me when he confidently, and without embarrassment, allows me to physically show him my love. Oh, how far I've come. (The book will explain).
The exchange was brief yet long enough for me to cup his stubbly teenage-acne face in my hands and tell him that I loved him. He responded, "I love you too," before going back to work. My heart skipped its beat.
As his sister and I walked to the car, she apologized for the brief visit. She went on to explain that her brother only wants to spend time with his friends these days but that it would change once he got older. Who was the adult/mother-ish/parental-like figure here?
I told her that it was okay and that her brother should be spending his time with his friends. I certainly didn't take it personally. "I didn't want to hang out with my parents when I was his age. It's how it goes."
We got in the car, and she turned to me. "Yes, but did you see how his face lit up when he saw you. He got so happy."
Yes, I did. And I'm going to trust it.