But, just as I left for Cyrus (to have income, to stay sane), I came back for him, too.
And if you're keeping track, you'll know he and I were in Florida for about two weeks. I hadn't really thought about it before we got in the car, but this was the most time, consecutively, I'd spent with him since January of 2013. It was beautiful.
Upon seeing the Atlantic, he ran (his wobbly run) toward it and said, "Mom, the ocean!" It was as if he'd waited his whole life or lifetimes to see it. When the water touched his toes, he didn't stop to contemplate, he just kept going. He spat the salt water and laughed. Without me grabbing him when the waves came, he would've gone on forever.
He also loved the sand. He crushed a friend's sandcastle and laughed as she cried. He packed buckets full and scooped it with his little plastic shovel.
He ate. And ate. And chewed and swallowed. Homemade paella, black beans, and yuca. He took down three small bag of Cheetos in about 15 minutes. He ate, forgive me, bites of a McDonald's cheeseburger, including onions and pickles. He swallowed it all and asked for more. He drank and drank.
He made sophisticated jokes from the back seat of the car and sat happily, looking out the window or singing. Like we all did on road trips growing up.
He became a more mature version of himself on this trip. I'm grateful I got to watch.
Did I mention he starts kindergarten in a few weeks?
And I start a new job next week. I'll be creating an activity program for a nursing home. Besides teaching, I've never done anything like it in my life. I'm ready for something new. For something challenging.
I guess I'm looking forward to my own road trip. Here's hoping I don't drown.