Raising Boys on My Own

Each pregnancy I thought I would have a daughter. Having grown up in a house full of sisters, that was something I could understand. When the second son arrived I realized my fate was to be the mother of boys and I relaxed knowing that with my adventurous nature God knew what he was doing and I was perfectly suited for the task. So I went at it like I do all things overachieving, trying to be the best that I could at the task set before me.
I like to hike, ride bike and I am an artist. That alone takes me out of the world of the girly girl and puts me into the strange category. I would rather canoe up the Rio Grande for an afternoon than shop in Manhattan, although I would try it if the offer ever came up. I would rather conquer the North rim of the Grand Canyon on a mule than take a Caribbean cruise although I love the ocean, it is in my blood. Let’s camp in the Keys somewhere and snorkel instead and eat at the bar that Hemmingway frequented. I don’t need linen and lace when there is an adventuring waiting for me.
So sons provide that adventure I have needed. Because I don’t really believe in fate, it is providence, provision.
Parks and the pools played a big part of the summer agenda for the boys. We frequented them regularly taking their friends or meeting them there. There was little league and soccer which I think I enjoyed more than they did. I was on the floor building legos and tents in the living room and bedrooms were a regular affair. My soul needs to wade in a creek or explore the tidal pools at Laguna Beach or see where this road will take us through the canyon. All this is stored in my heart and mind and although the last few years have been hard I am not going to let the enemy steal it.

Last summer when I couldn’t really afford it Scott and I headed for the coast, south of Galveston where we asked, where does this road lead as the sunsets over the intercoastal high way and we discovered the light of the refinery and took photographs of each discovery. We ate on the waterfront and talked a blue streak about all that was lost. Then we handed to Houston for a concert and I was abandoned to friends and spent the evening in a hotel alone having danced the delicate dance with my son that lies between child and manhood.

I am glad I danced.