“Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.”
--Snoopy
The day had finally arrived.
Helen Belden vowed to herself not to linger, but there she was, standing in the doorway to her oldest son’s bedroom, watching him as he neatly stored a few last minute items into his duffel bag.
A dingy baseball signed by Darryl Strawberry, a dark blue tee shirt that had
been washed so many times it was almost see-through, a well-worn medical
book—Brian zipped up the bag in his usual, careful way before turning to look
at his mother.
“Well, I guess that’s it.”
Helen nodded. This was it, all right. Emotion rose in her throat. “Fine.”
They were all excited the day the letter came: Brian’s acceptance to Colombia, where he’d embark on his pre-med studies and begin to fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a doctor. Her husband, Peter, couldn’t stop grinning. Trixie, Mart and Bobby, Brian’s younger siblings, had joined hands and danced around him, chanting, “Brian got accepted!” over and over.
And Helen had thought she’d pass out; her pride, joy and excitement was that strong.
The sun streamed into the neat room. At first glance, you would never know anything had changed. The bed was neatly made, the homemade quilt cheery and bright, and the Periodical Table of Elements still hung on the wall over the desk. You couldn’t tell by looking at the antique dresser that the drawers were now empty. It was only the bookshelves that gave it away, spaces like missing teeth in some of the rows.
Helen sighed. Where was that excitement now?
“Moms?”
Helen unobtrusively gripped the doorjamb, a single thought filling her.
How could she possibly be expected to let go?
“Moms?” Brian’s voice matched a look of uncertainty she hadn’t seen on his face in a long time.
“Moms?
You’re not going to let go, are you?”
Helen continued
to grip the back of the seat, jogging behind as the small boy laboriously
pedaled a shiny, blue bicycle in front of her.
“Not until
you’re ready.”
The stretch of
Glen Road that ran in front of Crabapple Farm, their home, was the perfect place
for Brian to learn how to ride without training wheels. Two miles from the town
of Sleepyside, there was rarely any traffic. And thanks to the trees that lined
the road on both sides, cool shade dappled with sunlight provided a blessed
respite from the hot month of August.
Brian bent his
dark, wavy head over the handlebars, and Helen felt a surge of tenderness as the
dear little nape of his neck, brown from a summer spent outdoors, came into
view.
“I’m going! I’m going!” he called back.
“Well, I’m going.”
Helen jerked back to the present.
Brian shifted his bag from hand to hand before suddenly dropping it to the floor. He pulled her into a hug. “You’ll take the jalopy out for a spin every now and then, right? I don’t want it to get too used to not running. Might get ideas!”
Brian’s jalopy was his pride and joy. Helen managed to get out an affirmative reply.
Brian hugged her harder. “Ah, Moms…I’ll be visiting next weekend, you know.”
Brian was much taller than she. Helen let the words drift down on her like soft rain.
“Don’t make this hard,” he whispered, and Helen closed her eyes, remembering how she couldn’t sleep at all the first night she brought him home from the hospital, because she had to keep reassuring herself that he really and truly was breathing. She’d bend over the bassinet, straining her eyes until she caught the miniscule rise and fall of the blanket that covered him.
“I’m just being silly,” Helen said, smoothing a lock of hair off his brow. She cleared her throat. “You’re ready, then?”
“You ready?” Helen could hear her sneakers slap against the ground as the bicycle began to pick up speed. She continued to hold tightly to the back of the seat, increasing her pace.
Brian sat up
straight, his sturdy legs beginning to pump the pedals, the breeze blowing his
hair back. The air was beginning to thicken with humidity, and Helen could feel
perspiration start to sheen her forehead as she slowly began to loosen her grip.
“Ready!”
“I’m ready.” Brian picked up his duffel bag, and Helen moved back out of the doorway. The rest of the family was waiting downstairs in the kitchen.
Waiting to say goodbye.
“Brian…” Helen’s voice thickened, but there wasn’t anything she could do about the dam of feeing that was filling her. “I’m very proud of you. So proud. I know you’re going to do well.”
“Thanks, Moms.”
“I’m going to miss you.” Helen quickly brushed a tear away. “And just shush. I’m your mother. I’m supposed to cry at a moment like this!”
Brian’s protest turned into a laugh, but his eyes were suspiciously bright. “You’ll see me a lot.”
Helen knew this was true. She didn’t flatter herself—his girlfriend lived in Sleepyside—but she also knew that her eldest had a strong love of family and home. Yes, she would see him, catching occasional glimpses of him on weekends, and longer ones during the holidays.
“Yes, I suppose I will.” She took his arm as they descended the stairs.
He would always allow her entry into his life, but with the passing of time, the moments would be apart, the space between them growing as Brian moved further and further into adulthood.
Moved away. Away from her.
Helen wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought she heard the soft call of a Bob-White nearby. She took a deep breath and let go of Brian’s bike, her fingers still slightly curled from her former tight grip on the seat.
The bike wobbled
for one heart-stopping moment, then steadied, the tires singing on the asphalt.
She dropped into
a fast walk. “Not too far. Remember!”
“Okay!”
Brian yelled back, his bicycle a blue flame.
Helen smiled
with pride as Brian began riding on his own, the determined set of his shoulders
causing a deep part of herself to shift, take notice, make room for new
information.
She stopped,
wiping her brow as her firstborn pulled further and further away from her.
She smiled wistfully as the bike grew smaller and smaller until finally, with a wink of chrome, it vanished out of sight.
The End
Author’s Notes: Heartfelt thanks to Star Susan, Divine Dana and Kewl Kate for looking this over for me. To quote ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ – “Remember George, no man is a failure who has friends.” :) Or, as we used to say at good ole John Muir Junior High – “A friend with weed is a friend indeed”. Not that they have any. At least, not that I know of. Hey, are you guys holding out on me? I thought you were my friends!! *veg*
And of course, a big thank you to Cathy P, without whose generosity, not only would I not have a website, but I'd just really be a sucky person to boot. Happy Jixaversary, and here's to many more!
Note: Trixie Belden® is a registered trademark of Random House Books. These pages are not affiliated with Random House Books in any way. These pages are not for profit. All stories copyright © Mary, 2007 - 2012. All rights reserved.