… with my 13-year-old son, Ev. He has been sullen for most of a year, since he turned 13 last November, but because of my recent sad morose-ness, has become quite concerned about me and has been interacting, more than usual.
Downtown is a 45 minute walk away, and mother and son have plenty of opportunity to talk, but mostly we travel in silence. First stop was the bank, which was very crowded because it’s Friday, and the lineups were brutal. At least it was customer appreciation day and we each had a cookie while we waited. I was cashing in $46.50 in coinage that I rolled while watching Buffy season 6 yesterday afternoon. $46.50 in coin is very heavy, and because I made 13-year-old carry the coins he made $10.00 for his trouble.
After that we stopped at the blighted mall for a quick bite. This mall is really the armpit of this city, having passed its prime over 20 years ago. Now the entrance is where the homeless and aimless gather to smoke and where a very fragile oldish woman somehow ended up on the ground with her walker on top of her. I was walking quickly but noticed that although there were a few people standing around her, nobody was actually helping her. So I moved her walker, and helped her sit, and then after glaring at a young man we both lifted her and settled her into her walker. My son was impressed and looks upon me as a little hero.
The 13-year-old went off for the night with the 18-year-old. They are involved with a Dungeon and Dragons group and although the Ev was not actually invited out for the evening with the older group, F took him along. When we moved here F was only 13 and hated his younger brother. It had happened quite suddenly and Ev was lost. New city, no friends, no brother. I’m glad that passed.
And I commented on a blog I followed about loss. Loss is always close by these days.
I think I’ll take my glass of wine out to the deck and read for a while. Soon it will be autumn.