Tonight, I stand in front of a room of twenty strangers who have come to hear me give a book talk. I am nervous, but excited to relive my adventure once again by telling tales, showing slides and sharing a chapter from my book “Changing Gears.” It is funny that I used to be so terrified about public speaking and now, it seems easy, playful even.
This is the first time I am presenting without Oakley at my side. Two days ago, we dropped him off to work as a maintenance assistant at a summer camp. True to form we decided to send him off with a long, 14-mile hike in the White Mountains, and today I am staggering around like a duck who needs knee replacements.
I am happy to have him off on his own. It is time for us to both work on our independence. The night we left him, we slept in a little cabin at the camp where he will be staying. I was more than ready to head to bed after our hike, but the moonlight was beckoning, so we ambled out to an open field to let it wash over us. At our backs, the woods rose up and Oak and Maple leaves rustled peacefully in the warm breeze. Before us, new hay stood at attention, seemingly in reverence for the rising full moon, so we followed it’s lead. Fireflies danced along the margin of the field and forest.
“I need this.” said Oakley “This is perfect.”
He is right, it is perfect. This summer he will eat healthy food, work hard, be outdoors and take a much needed break from social media. Yet, I worry. I have managed Oakley’s life so intensely over the last few years that I am full of “What ifs?”
That night, I slept on the floor of his cozy little cabin and in the morning, rose at five to head back home without him. I tried to quietly stuff my sleeping bag, but its crinkles woke him. He looked sleepily at me, then shucked off his own bag to walk my husband and I to our car. We bumped and bumbled against each other as we made our way down the hill through the dew-soaked grass.
“Brush your teeth.”
‘I will.”
“Take your meds.”
“I will.”
“Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t mom.”
“Be safe. No dare devil stuff.”
“Mom.”
My eyes filled with tears, but we laughed at my sentimentality. We showed each other our bike tattoos, more for my sake than his, and that was that. We drove away, leaving him to his own adventure and me to mine.
So, here I am, taking my show on the road solo. The folks at this library are a forgiving audience, so I try to crack some jokes (that aren’t that funny,) show some pictures and then open my book to read aloud. All is going well, even without Oakley to hide behind. I am a bold, independent adventurer, and so is he.
In my preparation for tonight, I have used a birthday card as a place marker in my book so that I can easily find the section that I want to share, but as I turn to that page the card tumbles out of the book and on to the floor by my feet. There is no podium, and the folks in the front row are only sitting a few feet away. They can’t help but glance at what I have dropped, and I do as well.
The birthday card has landed face down and with a flash horror, I see that I had written a list on the back. Not just any list, but a list of all the long, overdue medical appointments that I need to make while Oakley isn’t around and I have free time this summer. You guessed it, there in big, bold Sharpie pen, I can read Colonoscopy. Varicose Veins. Eye Doc. Teeth.
My swagger is gone. A blush creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks. As I continue reading, stumbling over a word here and there, I casually try to slide my foot over the card. Luckily, the front row is filled with children and I try to remind myself that, even if they read that list of atrocities, they won’t be surprised. After all, to them I am just a rather crinkly-necked lady, who may very well be of a different species then they. And if their parents read it? All the better. I like keeping it real.
In the end I am laughing and already thinking about who to tell the story to, and you know who I think of first? Oakley-he would think it was a hoot. I am looking forward to the stories he will have for me when we join forces again.
This is a big deal, a summer away.
Hoping he loves it and that they appreciate him.
Happiness to all☮️♥️💜💚💙☮️
Miss your mom and son stories. I wish I had that relationship with my daughter.
Separations are as hard as they are necessary. Your writing helps us to understand the joys and perils of intimacy…and how meaningless life would be without embracing them. Thank you. Love to you!
Well, better than “liposuction, Botox, breast augmentation…” or “give talk so the suckers will buy books”
Thank you for sharing this, Leah, especially the evening in the field with Oakley. You have given him many gifts of memorable moments in your travels with him and this was a special one for sure. He’ll be fine, but you know that. And so will you be.
Another beautiful and thoughtful post. On my way to Florida with your book, and now blog post, in hand. They make good company.
I am laughing too, but with a little tear in the corner of one eye. Kids need to try their own strength. You are giving Oakley that chance.