It's been a busy week at the Sinanan house. The garage and second floor are especially challenging to navigate, bringing to mind those hand-held puzzles from my youth that required moving various tiles with your thumbs until you got things just right.
To get into and out of my car I traverse a narrow space. To retrieve an item from the former guest room, you need a map, courage, finesse, and a clear understanding that you're likely not going to find the item you need. Best to just keep the door closed.
Reilly has, along with the help of his brother and mother, returned an apartment's worth of furniture, art supplies, and personal stuff to our home as he prepares to move to NYC in September. Today he handed me his sock basket, the same basket he's been storing his socks in since he was a toddler. It was his own idea way back when, to store them next to his shoes in the hall closet. Shoes and socks; toothbrush and paste; some things just go together.
My mother liked to remind me that the door swang in both directions for her children; we came and went and came and went and she just welcomed it all: dirty laundry, stories carefully edited for her sanity, and, sometimes, a lover in tow. I've felt her cheery presence this week as we made multiple trips with Reilly's stuff. I can't say I'm matching my mother's cheerful demeanor, but I can surely admit to feeling the blessing of family.
As Reilly seeks new horizons, I know his tether is long and loose. He's got courage, bold ideas, and opportunities to grasp and explore. And I know he feels supported and loved.
As it should be.