That Old Feeling

6, July 2013

THE MOM:

Me again. Alex has gone into London for the night to see his best friend, Arch. He’ll meet me at Heathrow tomorrow. Is the plan. Happy for him to go in for the night, plus it’s not costing me, he’s using free rail vouchers and money he made doing music, and frankly we could all three do with the break from one another, it’s been a long time since mama and papa and baby bear all started living together again, all day and all night, it all gets a tad claustrophobic.

I am pretty sure Alex is A-OK in London. I am pretty sure Alex is A-OK in London. I am pretty sure Alex is A-OK in London.

If you say it three times it’ll be true, is how I look at it.

I wonder when I’ll stop doing this.

Nervous especially I suppose because we’re off again, tomorrow, mother and son, to the U.S. of A. for one month or thereabouts.

The idea is while I’m sorting out my 97-year-old mother’s archive, getting her TV films packed and shipped, which she won’t completely understand, getting her radio shows into New York prior to a distribution deal, fingers crossed, which she also won’t completely understand, fielding a couple of journalists coming to interview her, keeping her on the subject being discussed and not something cute the dogs did, getting her into a studio to record some intros, yet to be written—and while I’m doing all this, Alex will be studying for his GE, his high school equivalency test, perhaps taking a local prep course for it, and perfecting the piano medley he’s chosen for his audition piece for music college. He is also bringing his golf clubs. And plans to swim in the lake every day.

My mission, over there in Western Mass, besides what I’ve listed, plus get dinner every night, plus be the perfect daughter to both parents, plus sort out this new dog my mother has acquired which has decided to crap in the dining room instead of outside and won’t use the dog pen, is to continue being a sort of Combo Mom and Baton-Wielding Policeman, making sure Alex does indeed accomplish all he’s set out to do but without yapping or nagging at him. The hard part.

And without thinking about a Tweet I just read stating that heroin addiction amongst the youth of Western Massachusetts is now reaching epic proportions. Which means I’ll probably be going to the lake and the driving range a lot, just, well, cuz.