"If I'm asleep when you get home..."

As a teenager and into my young adulthood, I lived in a small town outside of New York City. It was a magnificent town with woods and views across the mighty Hudson River and some wonderful people. Aside from the New York weather, and maybe the 'pace-of-life' I long-struggled to adjust to, it was practically perfect. Before that, before living in New York I was a young teen living in Southern California where I went to the beach, saw movie stars and hung out by the pool with family and friends. It too was practically perfect. In fact, my whole childhood was practically perfect.

The 'practically perfect' part was influenced by the cool locations, but the truth is we could have lived in Fargo [though I'm thankful we didn't] and my childhood would still have been practically perfect because my amazing Mom and Dad [and my 2 brothers and 3 sisters] made it that way. They of course are not perfect people, nobody is, but their love and support shapes who I am every day. I consider myself an amazing husband - because I saw in my father, what one looks like. I'm a good care-giver because of the great care I always got from Mom.

At the dinner table Mom and Dad always made sure there was plenty, in fact it became somewhat of a joke as the years have gone by. "Do you want more sauce?" Mom would ask on spaghetti nights. "Would you like some hot gravy?" Was her constant question when turkey was on the table. As we aged, we learned that the answer should always be yes, because she so loved to take care of us that she wouldn't eat her own dinner until she knew we were satisfied.

As a young high-schooler, when I started 'going out' at night she'd stay awake to make sure I got home safely. I'd find her sitting in the kitchen reading, or cleaning as if she wasn't waiting up for me, but I always knew, and I always liked it. Later, when I started driving, she'd remind me to 'drive carefully' and yup, even though I'd be out later... she'd be up, making sure I got home safely.

Then, as a less-young teen, I was out later and later and eventually I could stay out beyond when she could stay up but she could not rest until she knew I was home safely. So a new rule was created and enforced. "If I'm asleep when you get home, wake me up so I know you got home safely". A simple rule you'd think, but Mom is a heavy sleeper. So, being the great son I've always been, I'd go into their bedroom and in a loud-whisper I'd begin. "Mom, I'm home."

No response so I'd get a little louder... and then louder and eventually I'd practically shout. Finally, she'd awaken, but not with a gentle smile, acknowledging my presence, nope, she'd pry her eyes open, see a strange man standing in her bedroom and begin screaming, not a whispered dream-scream, but a full-on terrified, blood curdling scream. Seems funny now, but it was horrifying. It was horrifying every time I got home. For years. And it continued all the way through my younger brothers and sisters.

Now, these many years later, it seems Mom's time to care for us is coming to an end. No more can she freshen our sauces and gravy, no more safety tips, and no more waking her up when I get home.

So, dear sweet mother, I say one more time that yes... I really, really want some more of your wonderful spaghetti sauce, I will drive carefully and most importantly, if you are asleep when I get there, I will wake you up to let you know... that I'm safely home.