Sound of Silence

I’ve cleaned what was his room, the room is now empty. Devoid of stereo, television, books, bed, him, it echos. The emptiness so prevalent the echos stretch to the kitchen, his room’s nearest neighbor. The echos making work in the kitchen now an eerie, if not sad experience. He’s not on the other side of that wall, there isn’t anything on the other side except another wall, full of empty.

He moved on Saturday morning. Three of his friends came by to lend their hands, backs and humor to the movement of a lifetime’s worth of him. He’d been preparing for this for some time, ready to tackle his next role, adventure. Inside of two hours, he was done, going. Left in his space were some trash, dust, loose coins and Shawshank Redemption and Michael Jordan posters. I guess they didn’t make the cut. M also left the echos.

When he was done, I hugged my tall boy, the man he had become. I kissed him on the cheek. I congratulated his progress, success. I bid him farewell. And then I cried.

My girlfriend called with calm and supportive words. She said just the right things at just the right time, she made me laugh. My daughter suggested we get out and have fun. Our afternoon at the batting cage was just that, fun.

M has moved out and he has called me twice. "Mom, I’m lying on my floor and it is so great!" He further reports having gone shopping for groceries; he bought among other things steak, broccoli and brandy which he planned on having for his Sunday dinner. He went on to say he’d started putting things away and thinking about how to further decorate. He talks about the neighborhood and the changes it is experiencing. His excitement is infectious.

The room he occupied may be empty of his things and certainly his presence among them will be missed. But I’d be hard pressed to deny my full out joy for his sense of accomplishment, success. I am looking forward to more calls, emails and as soon as he scores a couple of more chairs, he’ll invite his dear old mom to dinner.

In the empty room however, filling the silence are a handful of projects that will result in a room, with a bed, for me. That sound you hear is the th-th-thudding of my anticipation for future trips to lands of hard and house wares.