Katy McKenna Raymond  
Personal blog of christian writer Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri


Read more Katy at...
LateBoomer.net

(No Title)

It must be admitted that I was confused, caught off guard. Maybe it was the disorientation of just having driven through a blizzard to arrive at my son Scott's new apartment, where he has set up housekeeping (right!) with a couple other guys. From total white-out to dim candlelight, our senses were jolted by the sights and sounds of three twenty-one-year-olds putting the finishing touches on the tossing of a salad and the heating of a lasagne. They juggled items in and out of the oven, recycling them through the fire in order to keep everything at serving temperature until the other honored parents arrived. They worked utensil-free, but in proud possession of several virgin potholders, the innocence of which my kitchen hasn't beheld lo these 24 years. I kissed the boys hello and hurried past them into the living room, where I joined the others in ooohing and aaaahing over the imaginative furnishings and expressive decor. After all had arrived, I figured we would be filing through the kitchen, filling our plates and moving again to the living room, since there was no dining room table, per se. And that one of the boys would suggest that we, their beloved family members, would precede them in line. These are the vain thoughts that frequently fill an aging mother's head. But, no. Without so much as a "soup's on" or a "come and get it," the guys were side-by-side at the counter, with their backs to us, loading their salad plates and diving into the lasagne headlong. I must have clenched my eyes tightly against the disappointment, for I did not see what happened next. All I remember is the sound of his voice. "Here's your salad, Mom. What can I get you to drink?" The heart of a mother is often clouded with blizzard-like conditions, and frequently lit with only the remains of a dimly burning wick. But when the eyes of my heart are opened, my son shines through.
Posted by Katy McKenna on 02/22 at 07:44 PM
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