Intermission
Our son turned 25 last Saturday. We met up with him briefly Friday down here in Ashland. He’d come down here a few days before with some friends, and couldn’t tarry with us because he had to be back at work, or meet up with a girl, or some such parent-neglecting obligation.
He and I at some point were in a grocery store here, pondering over something, and a young woman walked by and raked her eyes across us - him with intent, me by unhappy accident - and he turned to me and said, “This place is out of control.” Nice try, kid. I admit to feeling a pang of both loss and pride at that moment. While it had been 20 years or so since I’d had that particular experience, I was filled with happiness for my kid. Although he feigned dismissiveness, I couldn’t have given him a better birthday present if I’d emptied my bank account.
