“Can’t we just talk about this later?” Isaac asks me as I step into the office where he is playing PS3. Well, you leave tomorrow, I need to do a few things around here and finish my blog. I am already missing American Idol, and you know how I feel about that. When are we going to talk? “ Well,” long pause as he makes some important move in his game. “Its really not that big of a deal is it? I just have to throw some stuff together. Can we talk while I pack at 7:00 tomorrow morning, then I can shower while you take everyone else to school.” I roll my eyes, I take a deep breath. Sure, Isaac, if that’s what you want to do, I am sure we can make it work. In my head I am throwing darts of “attitude adjustment” and “please pretend you care” at his head, and heart.

At exactly 7:00 am this morning he is at my bedroom door. I am a bit startled as I am usually pushing, prodding, poking, flipping lights, and threatening who knows what to get him up. He is in his robe and bright-eyed. “Mom we said 7:00, can you grab my suitcase and come down?” I grunt something about sure now you are ready as I grab a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I walk into the bedroom he shares with his brothers, both of whom are still in bed. Isaac flips on the light and grabs his clothes. You need shirts, underwear, a swimsuit, something other than your basketball shorts to wear for the tour and interview with the engineering department.Isaac throws theses things down on the suitcase. “Wait, what? Interview? I do not have anything besides basketball shorts, no one said anything about an interview, I mean all I am doing is checking out the campus right?” His voice is pretty robust for this time in the morning and his brothers are moaning and swearing at him.

“Will you pack this stuff for me mom, I gotta jump in the shower.” I grab his suitcase and his clothes and move to the living room to give the other two boys some peace. I quietly fold his clothes thinking of the days when I had to pack for him. The times when, if I did not pack for him, the only thing that would have made it to our destination was legos, and his favorite blanket. I sigh as my heart and mind continue the battle of wanting him out of the house, and desperately wanting to cling to my first-born and never let go.

We are now in the car about one-quarter of the way to the airport and Isaac mentions he forgot a toothbrush. He then pesters me with a zillion questions. “What if my bag is too big? What if I lose my boarding pass? Will you walk me in?” Isaac you have flown to England and back, to Maine by yourself, this is a short flight, no plane changes, I think you will be fine. He gives me a sheepish grin “I was just playin’ with you.”

We arrive at the airport and I ask if he really wants me to park and walk him in. “Yes, mom” he says. It is a very small airport. The security check is about ten yards from the front entrance. Isaac, I say a little exasperated. It is going to cost me a dollar to park and walk you those few feet, you really want me to park? “What, I am not worth a dollar?” he asks? I park. We get out and walk to the big revolving door. We take three more steps and he is already getting his ID out to give to the security. He has forgotten me. Hey Isaac, a goodbye would be nice. I say not very quietly or very nicely. He turns back a bit bewildered, “Oh sorry mom, bye” as he gives me a hug. I love you Isaac, I say to his back as he is already walking away. He turns, a big smile, “I love you too mom.”

I wait for him to get through security. His basketball slides come off his size thirteen feet, as his bag and electronic equipment move along the conveyor belt. He shuffles along, his six-foot three, twiggy body moving at his slow pace through the scan machine and out to the terminal. I sigh and walk back to the car, yeah Isaac, my funny man-child, you are definitely worth a dollar.


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