December 5, 2022
My dream the night before Sophia and I left for Nashville, Tennessee was telling.
I dreamed I held Jonah as a toddler. He had the same outfit and haircut as in the picture on the cover of my latest book Syra’s Scribbles IV which is how I recognized him.
I said, “Who’s my baby.”
He smiled and pointed to himself and said, “Me!”
I said, “Who else is my baby?”
He pointed to newborn baby, Xenia and said, “Susha!”
I said again, “Who else is my baby?”
He looked puzzled but smiled and said, “Babydoll?”
Yes, Esther’s famous baby doll still roams the toy bins of today even after all these years. I said, “Yes. Babydoll is a baby too. Is Sophia my baby?”
Jonah gave a resounding, “No!” and added, “She’s big.”
I said, “Sophia will always be my baby,” and woke up.
I kept hoping in the few months Sophia was in Texas this fall, that we would grow closer. I didn’t want to press her since she didn’t want to come home. We called. We texted. We met now and again, had some good meals, played some board games, and she helped us put the tree up again this year. Then it was time for her to carry out her cherished plan of moving in with her friend from college whose family lives in Nashville, Tennessee. Our time to see each other has slipped away. I worry that it will be hard for us to connect from so far away. I fear that it will be hard for me to show her how much I love her. I pray that she will continue to call me and text me and let me know what’s going on in her life. So much of our relationship is up to her.
College isn’t for everyone right out of high school. Sophia plans on going back to college after taking time off to work and adult for a while. Her roommate is nice. I met Elyot along with a number of Sophia’s girlfriends when I came to Gorgia to bring Sophia back home last spring. Elyot also dropped out of Mercer and wants to work and adult for the time being too.
Sophia has been waiting for word from Elyot that all was ready for Sophia to come. At first, they were going to drive together, but Elyot’s health issues interfered. Sophia was tempted to go alone, but I told her I’d take the time off to drive with her. I didn’t want her to go so far, but I wanted her to get there safely. It wasn’t easy to make the trip happen. With the Christmas season upon us, every day of my life was packed to the max.
Sophia and I left early Sunday morning, stopping by Starbucks for some much needed caffeine. I hated to miss church, but it worked out that I would fly back on Monday evening and only need a substitute teacher for one day. That whole weekend was filled too. Friday night was a live performance of “My Fair Lady” at Bass Hall with my friend Kristin. Saturday morning Justin’s phone alarm woke me up at six-thirty ringing from the kitchen. The alarm was named, “It’s Saturday. You can sleep in.” He thought it would be a funny joke to play on himself and swears he didn’t mean to leave it outside my bedroom. Really funny, little boy. Saturday evening Mike and I hosted the school faculty and board Christmas party. It was a late night, and Sunday morning came too soon. I was thankful for my vente hot chocolate with coconut milk and hazelnut syrup, no whip. I wish my kids had fond memories of the wholesome breakfasts I cooked up for them, but my best cooking days happened before Jonah, Xenia, and Justin were born. Sophia wasn’t surprised when I suggested we swing by Starbucks. She ordered the latest praline Christmas drink for herself.
My favorite person to drive across the country with is Mike. There are a lot of girlfriends I’d love to road trip with too, friends with whom I could talk for ten hours and still have more to say. Sophia and I have taken a couple of cross-country drives together, but I was nervous about this one and dreaded awkwardness. She’s not always interested in what’s going on with me or with what I think. To my delight, we spent hours on end with some fond remember when’s and a number of childhood confessions. Sophia got around our internet restrictions by stealing the administrator password, and we never found her out.
The closest we came to serious topics was a conversation about generalized anxiety. Sophia described how it feels to be constantly anxious and shared how thankful she is to have friends who can understand from personal experience, friends like the one who she lived with for the past three months. I couldn’t relate from experience, but I listened. Our conversation was on my mind when my heart rate shot up a few hours later.
After a nice dinner in Memphis, Sophia and I returned to the hotel room and were flummoxed to not be greeted by Sophia’s cat. Sophia searched behind the blackout curtains and along the windows. I looked behind the curtain under the bed beside the boards that surround the bottom of hotel beds to reduce the chances of people leaving behind their socks. We called and cajoled, “Tax Fraud. Here kitty, kitty,” but there was nary a meow.
Next, we went to the front desk where I took charge, “We just came back from dinner, and we can’t find my daughter’s cat. Is it possible that someone entered our room? Are there any ways that a cat could get out?”
“No one has been in there, ma’am. It happens all the time though. Cats like to hide. You should try looking under the bathroom counter.”
We walked back to the room. Sophia was almost shaking. I thought about the tag she has on Tax Fraud with a scannable code so that people can help find him if he’s ever lost. I thought about time and calculated the hours till my flight back home the next day. I ran through a million scenarios as we walked back down the hall. My heart raced, and I sweat. I feared for Tax Fraud and even more for my daughter. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be that scared multiple times a day for days on end.
That episode was short and temporary. Tax Fraud was standing at the door when we opened it. He gave a polite meow and proceeded to duck under the bed curtain and slip up over the board into the depths of the box spring of the first bed. It was a small opening only a cat could have found.
The next day we grabbed Tax Fraud and forced him into the cat carrier before he had the chance to hide again. We didn’t stay for breakfast. Time was tight, but Sophia agreed to detour over to Graceland. It was Mom’s birthday, and she would have appreciated the chance to catch a glimpse of the house of the “King of Rock and Roll.” Mom loved Elvis. Sophia took a picture of me outside the gates. On the way out of town, we played, “Walking in Memphis” by Marc Cohn. There was rain but no walking for us. Everyone we talked to warned us about crime and the danger of walking in Memphis.
We drove for the rest of the morning with one Starbucks stop for coffee for Sophia and hot chocolate for me and for gas for the car and arrived at the apartment complex by one. The apartment was nice but not as disabled-compliant as Sophia was hoping since Elyot has mobility issues. Still, it was bright and cheerful and clean and updated. The refrigerator was brand new.
We emptied the car and the moving bag attached to the top filled with boxes and filled the car up again at the store with miscellaneous stuff like toilet paper and a few Christmas decorations. Then Sophia dropped me off at the airport and drove away.
It felt a lot like when I took her to college a year and a half ago. I was the one flying but it felt like Sophia was leaving me behind.
I felt so lonely in the airport and full of uncertainty about Sophia’s new life and our new long-distance relationship. It was a balm to my soul to come home to my kids who cheered my return and loved on me.
Since Sophia moved away, she’s been calling and texting me. She’s updated me on the drama of her water heater not getting turned on and the parts that needed to be ordered and the showers they took at Elyot’s mom’s house. The price of car insurance, the jobs she’s applied to, and the door dashes she’s done. She sounds busy. She sounds happy.
Esther is heading to graduate school perhaps as early as this summer. She’ll be adulting too as she leaves dorm life and takes up an apartment. It will be a joy to have her home for one last long Christmas break.
I had the feeling that last summer was going to be our last summer as a family of eight and it looks to be right. It’s Christmas and I miss Mom and my grown girls. I can’t wait for Esther to fly in.
It’s hard to imagine ever getting used to seeing my children move away. We’ll be in this stage of life for many years to come as the next four kids grow up and launch into adulthood like their sisters. Maybe it’s like the years of children in diapers. I didn’t like the mess at the time, but now those years hold many fond memories. No matter what stage my children are in though, I will always consider them to be my babies. That’s a certainty that my dream got right.
Syra's Scribbles 