Dallas has been home for a couple of weeks now. He brought his dog Baxter as well. Life has been an adjustment for him, Amy. Snoop, and me. I wasn’t sure we could co-exist after seven years, but so far things have worked well.
He took over Lacey’s old room since I turned his into my office. He loaded it with clothes and some of the more essential things for living. We agreed to share my office. I need to time to write and he needs time to fill out applications and respond to job postings. Somehow, the boy and I have managed to maintain a cordial relationship and to share time on the computer.
Dallas also attached his X-box 360 to the television in the office. I’ve have never asked for a turn. Just watching him play a couple of times has convinced me that I don’t have the manual dexterity, stomach, or calmness to succeed on such a thing. My arthritic fingers couldn’t begin to push buttons or flip switches quickly enough to win any game. In one session, Dallas managed to defeat the entire Japanese army forces that were entrenched on an island. Blood flowed as he shot, stabbed, and blew up enemy soldiers. In all the games, opponents are either trying to do the same to him or squash him into the sod of an athletic field. Were I to engage in one of those games, my nerves would be frayed before I ever got half way through the most elementary stages of a video game. I learned years ago how poorly I could compete when Lacey, as a four year old, beat my brains out in a game of Mario Brothers.
My son isn’t comfortable here. His bed is still in Chattanooga, and he suffers through bouts of insomnia, and I feel for him. He sometimes slips off in the early evening for a power nap. That rests him enough so that sleep is difficult and then he’s up into the early morning hours. The noise he creates wakes me up since I’m such a light sleeper. Of course, now when Snoop wants to go outside in the middle of the night, Baxter insists upon going as well. Neither dog obeys worth a darn, so I spend several minutes whistling, yelling, and cursing to get them in.
What I’ve learned since Dallas came back to our house is that I like him. Dads love their sons, but not all like them. When the boy left home at eighteen, he and I didn’t always see eye to eye, meaning he didn’t do all that I demanded. That led to some tense moments. Now, Dallas is a college graduate, and I keep telling him that “it’s all good.” He’s completed the biggest dream I had for him. We spend much of our time teasing each other, but we also find moments to have serious discussions. I respect and admire the person my son has become.
Dallas moved home to begin a job with a company. He completed his training, but since then he hasn’t heard a word. He’s going back to Chattanooga to look for a position and also to find some part-time work. More than anything else, he’s going “HOME” where his life has been for the last seven years. I’d just gotten comfortable with his return. Amy and I are going to be just a bit lonely without him, but what’s most important is his happiness. We’ll just have to readjust our previous adjustments.
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