Precious & Few

by Donna Doyon

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Despite our being around each other every day, I suddenly felt like we had lost touch with each other. So I did what Moms do with their sons. I messed up his hair, kissed his forehead, and squeezed him tight. Then I asked him if he would like to spend the next morning doing something with me.

"Like what?" he asked. "Watch a movie?"

Sitting together watching a movie and eating popcorn was something we both enjoy doing but it wasn't what I was missing. So I told him I'd rather do something that allowed us time to talk while we were having fun.

We decided we'd play the board game Clue. This was one of my favorite games as a child and my two children like it, too. On another day years ago we had played the game while watching the movie.

With my heart feeling lighter, I smoothed Sean's hair off his forehead and rubbed his back as he curled up in his blanket to sleep. Then I did what Moms do, I leaned over, kissed his cheek and wished him sweet dreams.

The next morning I awoke to bright sunshine and warm temperatures. After enduring weeks of frigid winter weather, I had the opportunity to do one of my all-time favorite things--sit on the front steps in the sunshine and read. I grabbed the previous month's issue of Reader's Digest, a towel from the bathroom, and my red fleece jacket. I folded the towel like a cushion to absorb any cold dampness that might permeate from the concrete step. I sat down and took a moment to enjoy the warmth of the day.

A short time later Sean opened the door.

"Hi, Mom. Can I come out?"

He was wearing just a t-shirt and jeans... no shoes.

"Sure, but just for a minute," I replied.

He sat down beside me and gave me a hug.

"If you're going to stay out here, you need to put some shoes on," I told him a couple of minutes later. He disappeared back inside.

"Do I need my coat, too?" He asked as he came back outside.

The thermometer had only read 40 degrees when I looked at it earlier. But the thermometer was in the shade. We were in the sun. My mother's instincts told me he needed to put on a coat.

"No, I think you'll be okay," I said instead.

"Cool!"

He bounded down the stairs and into the driveway. He scooped up a handful of snow. He threw it at the car's windshield. Then he aimed for the backboard on the basketbal hoop.

I tried to listen, as Sean talked, but he spoke so fast and intently on his favorite video game, telling me the stories behind the adventure and describing the characters that most of it went over my head. But I watched his animated poses as he reenacted scenes from the game he had been playing during this week of school vacation.

I kept turning my attention back to my magazine, feeling slightly irritated that Sean wouldn't leave me in peace. Then Sean lobbed a snowball at the house just above my head. As the remnants of a carefully aimed snowball showered down upon me I realized I had forgotten my plan to spend time with him.

I set my magazine down on the step beside me and stood. I went down the stairs and scooped up a handful of snow and pretended I was going to throw it at Sean. He didn't look worried. He knows my aim is terrible. We laughed as we tossed snowballs at the cars and house.

"Do you want to go for a walk around the block with me?" I asked.

"Sure," was his reply.

We were down to the street before I realized he was still wearing just a T-shirt.

"Run inside and get your fleece jacket," I told him.

A few minutes later we started walking. We stopped to make snowballs and toss them at the street signs. We made a game of it. Of course, Sean won each time. We talked about why the snow on one side of the street was not good for snowballs and why the other side was perfect. We talked about school, friends, neighborhood dogs, and many other things. Some topics lasted only a few steps, others covered the distance between three or four houses.

As we approached our driveway I knew I wasn't ready to give up this quiet time together yet.

"Do you want to go around again?" I asked.

"Sure."

And so we did.

Twice around the block and a little time tossing snowballs was enough to help me reconnect with my son. He didn't mind that I reached out and touched his hand as we walked. I didn't mind when he dropped his arm over my shoulder as he walked on tiptoes--so anxious for that day when he would truly be taller than me.

The days I have to share with him are so precious and few. As each day passes he seems to become more independent in thought and action. His life and his decisions will soon be his own, and I will be left with the memories of his youth--memories of the moments we've shared together. I also have expectations of a new relationship with him. One built on mutual trust, respect, and love. The foundation for that relationship is built upon our daily interaction now.

It can be so easy to drift away from the relationships that mean the most to us. Even on that special morning, once we went back inside it wasn't long before he was off slaying virtual monsters and I was engrossed in schoolwork. Yet throughout the remainder of the day, we touched more, and found subtle ways to stay connected with a glance, a smile or a wink.

As I began writing this story I asked Sean if he had remembered our plan to spend some time together that day or if it was chance that he stepped outside into the sunshine with me. He told me he hadn't forgotten. It tore at my heart that I had. But Sean didn't hold that against me. Instead he stayed by my side and helped me remember how important it is to spend time together.

Is there someone you've been wanting, needing to reconnect with? Perhaps you haven't spent enough time with your mate, your child, or your friend? Have the demands of life created a barrier between you and what is most important to you? Do you feel whimsical and lonely for the relationships that have been neglected? Perhaps like me, you've occasionally forgotten a promise to spend time with someone, or have allowed some other event to encroach upon a relationship.

This week, today, I encourage you to make--and then take--time to be with your loved ones. From one day to the next we never know what might happen to steal the people we love most from our lives. While some tragic events take the person in body, other events steal their spirits and break the connections we share. Today is the day for you to decide what relationships are most precious to you. Are you devoting enough time to them? Or will these precious moments continue to be too few?

~~~
Copyright 2003 by Donna Doyon. All rights reserved. You are free to use material from the A Swan's Song eZine in whole or in part, as long as you include complete attribution, including live web site link. Please also notify me where the material will appear. The attribution should read:

"By Donna Doyon. Please visit Donna's web site at http://www.donnadoyon.com for additional stories and articles on improving relationships with yourself, your family and the other people in your world."