Thursday, October 07, 2010

Dear Max...

I miss you. Your cat misses you. Maria misses you. Alex smiled broadly this morning when he heard that you come home in one more day. Your dad misses you. William misses you. Did I mention your cat misses you?

Ferris was visiting me and Geoff this morning. Early this morning. Around four AM he was climbing all over my face and covering me with his special nose kisses. His purring was making the bed shake. I picked him up and put him on Geoff, and two seconds later, in the dark, I heard your dad laughing. Those special nose kisses tickle. A lot. Then the epicenter of the bed shaking would move back to my side, and I would have Ferris diving his head in to my hand, pawing away at the covers, then looking for my nose again.

Ferris is a funny kitty. I think he is good kitty, because of you. You take good care of him, and he has learned to be a trusting and affectionate little guy, under your tender and playful care. I wonder if he will look much bigger to you since you have been at camp. I wonder what other differences you might notice when you get home.

I am so sorry we did not send you away with two pair of shoes, or least one pair of waterproof shoes. It has rained all week here, so I can only imagine how much wetter and colder it has been in the mountains.

Maria wants us to save everything for your return. We had pizza for dinner, and she insisted we save you a slice. She got some cookies yesterday, and she is saving those too. She got three cookies and she did not eat a single one. And she chose not to watch a movie last night, because she wants to wait until you can watch with her. She has been counting the days until your return. She wants you to have a special dinner when you are home.

I hope the camp food has been as good as they promised. I hope you have been warm and comfortable, yet still reveling in discoveries and interesting challenges. I hope your camera is working. I cannot wait to hear camp stories, to see how your fez held up, to learn if they still tell ghost stories around the campfire. I hope you have had a good time.

I missed you the moment you stepped on the bus. I learned I am the kind of mom that wants to be with you all the time, so I can enjoy your adventures and see your happiness, and maybe too so I can look out for you, when you need it. But your week away is almost up, and hey! you must be doing great. Must be that my smart and responsible, diligent, and humorous Max is more than capable of looking out for himself, and having his very own adventures.

I always will want to be around you Max, but I see how your adventures and the paths you take will not always be with me, and this is good, exciting, wonderful. My children continue to teach me. I am a fortunate woman. I still miss you though. So does Ferris.


  1. Awwww. What a wonderful letter to a much loved son.


  2. I love this Dear Max letter. So sweet that you all miss this boy.

  3. Oh, Natalie, you so touched the core of "Mother Love"! My son is 25, and it brought me back in time...the push and pull of it all.

  4. Can't wait to hear how the adventures unfolded! What a wonderful thing, to camp, to go away, to be missed, and to return....

  5. I would have to really, really, really love someone to save cookies for them. Especially if they were chocolate...

  6. He is home. I am always struck by the deep, deep pleasure of "normalcy." It feels good and easy when things are neither wild nor dull, when things are calmly normal, and the people we love are where we normally expect them to be.


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