Mother’s Day 2011

     “Happy Mother’s Day.  I’ll talk to you Wednesday if I don’t get eaten by a bear.  Love, Charlie.”  I can’t help feeling that I hope it’s not a Mother’s Day to remember!
     The message from my son was attached to a lovely spring bouquet that was sitting on my front porch early yesterday morning.  It had apparently been delivered by the florist on Friday when we were in Olympia and there it stayed overnight waiting to be discovered.  (Don’t they call any more to see if you are home to accept delivery?)
     As for Charlie, my 54-year-old son (funny how we’re the same age now…) – he’s on a wilderness camping trip with a dozen other graduates of a two-year acting class.  He’s the old man of the group and the only one with camping-beyond-the-car-park experience.  Never mind that his camping days were forty years ago!
     Fortunately (I think!), I know very little about their plans for the three-day adventure.  Charlie did call and ran a few recipes by us.  Not that he followed any of our advice, of course.  Tonight he’s in charge of the dinner and is planning to serve coq au vin.  The last I heard, he was packing in canned chicken and six bottles of wine which he insisted would be accompaniment to all three dinners during the trip.  (Do bears like wine?)
     His entire adventure reminds me of a phenomena most mothers of adult children know well.  Charlie has lived on his own and days away since he left for college at age seventeen.  I seldom give thought to his specific whereabouts on a day-to-day basis.  But, when he comes home for a few days’ visit and happens to be out after I’ve gone to bed, I sleep very lightly until I hear the front door open and close and know he’s safely back.  What’s up with that?  I guess it’s just a mom thing.
     As I say… I hope this is not a Mother’s Day to remember… at least for me!