Preparing

 “What will you do without me?”

E. is needling me. I have been complaining about his mess or his insolence or his not helping around the house. I pretend to laugh. I roll my eyes, smirk. He smirks back.

.

We have been looking at colleges, meeting with coaches, weighing options. He has another full year of high school, but coaches and players lock up commitments a year in advance. He’s a high school senior, but it feels like he’s leaving tomorrow. The last of the nest.

I’m not ready.

Most of the time, when he’s home, I’m gnashing my teeth at the heaps of mess he leaves in his wake: the dishes, the dirty socks, the wet towels, the gum wrappers, the bowls with dried ice cream, the lacrosse balls and sticks and cleats and netting.

Go, go, go, I think, as I slog through his piles.

Then, after returning from our most recent college visit, the unexpected: I am nervous, edgy. While scrounging for stamps in a drawer, I find a stack of photos. E. is a tow-headed toddler. Beaming. Kissing my face.

He is so young. I was so much younger.

I burst into tears.