It was a Sunday of many things. Going from one event to another without down time to process is harder than it was a few years ago. Add a few emotional jolts, and the reserve is depleted and running on fumes. Leaving the house after a brief stop for a phone conversation, I decided not to bother locking the front door. Why be paranoid? And I wouldn't be home THAT late, just a little after dark.
A pleasant evening with the in-laws, standing in for the Trucker (who was stranded in Idaho with a non-functioning truck). I arrived home with a van load of mementos of Dad. With illumination from just the outdoor light and the small indoor lamp left on at night I carried in the mementos, then headed down the hall.
In the bathroom, after flicking on the overhead light, I noted the closet door (which leads to the bedroom) was locked. I never do that. The shower curtain was pushed all the way open. I always close it. And a towel I didn't use was on the hook. It and the tub were wet.
Now, who breaks into a house (or walks in, as the case may be) to take a shower? In spite of the fact that a logical explanation must be available, I was uneasy, home alone at night. In a house left unlocked. If the youngest (and largest) bear cub had been in the family den, he would have used his own shower downstairs.
I phoned the Trucker. He calmed my fears. Suggested a text to the youngest cub. "He called me a few hours ago, but he didn't say from where. Maybe he was at home?"
The text was duly sent:
"Having a 'Three Bears' moment here. Did you stop in for a shower tonight?"
Minutes later, the response came back:
"Haha, yeah. And I ate the 'little bowl' of casserole. It was juuuust right!"
Oh, he is so funny. Goldilocks he is not. Twenty years old and still giving my heart an aerobic workout on a regular basis.
Love you son. Glad you are in my life, and that you return my love.
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