I have been in a weakened physical state. I have had to limit my social exposure and my physical exertion, for pain's sake. My precious daughter volunteered to take me to rescue the son of my womb, in his dilemma in Math and Spanish and Lunch. I love his middle-school attitude. He is truly, more my son, than any of the other. He has no maternal help. His mother and father have more to do than to be able to help him in his work. He doesn't want that help, these days, even when it is offered. But, on the day of delivery, he needs a bailout package. We printed the final documents, with the help of our dearest neighbors and barrelled down the road to deliver them.
The wrinkled and motley genius met me in the office. That boy looks just like me, I giggled. More inside the brain than outside the brain. Color coordinated? Not! Concerned about his work and inventions? Always. No question about his lunch. Here is your lunch and your papers and your contribution to the party. No thanks, really. I kissed his disheveled forehead. I saw my mind delivered there into middle school. I saw my mind walking around in that little fellow's body. We are a strange and motley family. We are curious and learners, not masters, but intellects, just the same. God loves us, in spite of ourselves. Usually, the joke between the Ethy boy and me is-- we look into eachother's eyes and shake our heads and say "Only a mother could love". We do love eachother.
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