Sunday is the day I talk to my oldest son, Daniel, who has been living in West Virginia for the past year. I was happy when he moved because he’s the type of person who really needed to experience life outside of Maine. It was important that he live in a different part of the country, see more racial diversity, and be away from his family. Of course, I was sad, too. Dan and I have always been close, and it was hard not to see him at the house on the weekends. Before he left, he cut and stacked my firewood for the entire year.
The calls are painful and I sometimes wish I didn’t have to make them. It’s not been easy for Dan in West Virginia. He had a hard time finding a decent job that paid above minimum wage, he missed being able to take the dog for walks in the woods, and he missed Maine. Being his mother, I could hear the discouragement in his voice, and the sadness too. My job is to just listen and offer some encouragement; it’s his life and his journey, not mine.
This week was a little different. His time in West Virginia is coming to an end. Friday is his last day of work and he’ll be back in Maine by the following Tuesday. I’m anxious to see him; to hear what he and his girlfriend have planned for the rest of the year as she works towards getting her MD. I’m sure they’ll be heading off somewhere else eventually, but for now it will be nice to have him back in Maine.