It’s Sunday evening and the smell of teenagers have left the house. The dog is contentedly sleeping, dreaming of the day she spent with her pack of smelly teenage boys. The cat has come out of hiding, relieved that all that noise in her kingdom has subsided and those smelly big people left, except for the one she loves. He just showered and is fast asleep.
The once full refrigerator contains condiments and eggs, and possibly a drop of milk. The cupboards are bare of cookies and snacks. The quiet hum of the heater sings softly in the background. The dog gives out a sigh. The video games are off; the computer is dim. Another weekend has passed in a growing teenage boy’s life.
I wait for the sound of yet another “D UUUU D E!” followed by laughter filling the rooms of our tiny home, but my other sons, those teenage friends of Brian’s have all gone back to where they belong. No more “Thank you Brian’s mom”, or “Can I please have more?” as they try not to knock me down with their gangly teenage bodies. Once in a while they include me in their conversations – usually to win a point against another – then back into argument and laughter with each other.
Somehow they always seem to arrange their return home plans to enjoy one last dinner before leaving. The baked chicken looks as if wild vultures picked it dry to the point where even the dog isn’t interested. But then, she had the pleasure of playing vacuum cleaner around the boy’s feet all weekend. There are no more mashed potatoes and even the vegetables fell victim to teenage -always-empty stomachs.
There’s leaves on the couch and dirt on the carpet, soda rings on the coffee table and an empty toilet paper ring on the dispenser. The white soap next to the sink is brown and the hand towels next to the sink look like the soap should still be white. There’s a Nerf bullet in the refrigerator and a toothbrush in the shower. A line of play samurai swords line the hallway towards the front door. A basketball sits on the porch and a baseball glove rests contentedly on my microwave.
A mother’s slice of heaven.
Until next time-