This is last night’s
blog but perhaps you’ll understand why I didn’t get it written. Jamie, my third
child and second son, called about 8:30 yesterday morning from downtown Fort
Worth. I knew there was a possibility he’d come from Frisco for supper that
night, but I didn’t expect him so early. I scrambled to get dressed and cancel a
morning appointment, because downtown is only ten or fifteen minutes from the
house. Jamie can take longer to get from point A to point B than anyone I know—it
was a good 30 minutes, because he stopped to make a business call.
But there he was!
We went to Ol’ South for breakfast--he loves the German pancake, and when I was
first recuperating from surgery, we shared many breakfasts there. I think he
was a bit disappointed that I ordered a blueberry waffle instead of the corned
beef has which has long been a part of our tradition. But I’ve noticed my
tastes changing lately. I never had a sweet tooth, except for chocolate, but
lately I want more sweet things, especially at breakfast.
Jamie brought his laptop
and his guitar—and barely left his dog at home. He was all set for the day, and
his business lunch never materialized, so we spent the day in the cottage.
There is going to sound awfully “mother-ly,” but it’s a joy for me to see him
hunched over the coffee table, buried in papers, working (he owns a toy
manufacturer’s representatives’ company). I sat at my computer working, though
I admit I was so glad to have him around I never fully focused on my work.
In the late
afternoon, Jordan came out, and we shared wine while Jamie demonstrated his new
guitar—a Taylor, as if I knew the significance of that, but he was proud of it—and
showed us the improvement in his playing. Then Jacob came out, and they were
off discussing fishing. I had to get quite firm to get us out the door for supper,
because we were meeting Jean, and I didn’t want to leave her sitting alone in a
restaurant. Sushi and good conversation for supper. I was glad Jean got a
chance to know Jamie because Lord knows she and other friends listen to me
blather on about my children often enough.
Jamie got caught
up in his work again when we came back to the cottage, and I had to gently
remind him it was eight o’clock…eight-thirty. Finally, he was out the door
about nine, happily carrying the Black Forest cake and coconut chiffon pie he’d
bought at Swiss Pastry, the pie a special gift for his wife.
My intention,
writing this blog, was not to chronicle every minute of the day, which I
somehow ended up doing, but to say what a wonderful gift Jamie gave me—a day of
his time. I have read elsewhere that when looking for gifts for an older person
(I will not call myself elderly, though my kids do!) who has everything they
need, you should consider a gift of yourself—the time for a cup of coffee, a
visit, a meal.
From a motherly
perspective, there’s another point. I have four children, and I treasure all of
them equally (in spite of their squabbles about who I love best), but any
chance to have time alone with one of them is a gift. We talk about our lives,
our hopes and plans, in ways that we don’t on those joyous occasions when we’re
all together.
Yes, yesterday was
a gift. Thank you, Jamie.
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