There’s nothing as sweet as simple pleasures
My son’s visit from Idaho last week was a total delight, which—of course—I knew it would be. I’m privileged to see my daughter often, and I regret that my son and his family live so far away.
Then again, as I frequently remind myself, I know many parents and grandparents whose adult children and grandchildren live a lot further away than Idaho, so I have little reason to complain.
My son Brad’s job as an engineer for BNSF railroad keeps him away from home so much that he seldom makes the trip to Seattle—or Edmonds. He had some vacation days coming, though, and—with Annika and her mom Debbie involved in school and a variety of commitments—my son combined a trip to visit his mom with an opportunity to play hockey in Tacoma with a group he’s played with for years.
As moms will do, I asked Brad ahead of time what he’d like for dinner the day he arrived. Pot roast? Home-made soup? Perhaps dinner on the waterfront at Arnie’s? His choice was to eat at home that evening—and he opted for Chinese take-out from family favorite North China, at Westgate. (If you haven’t eaten there, it’s time you did.)
So I phoned in an order for a number of treats—including egg rolls, pot stickers, barbequed pork, Mongolian beef and other luscious dishes.
My brother Warren, who enjoys dining every Thursday at North China, was delighted to accept an invitation for take-out at his sister’s home—in the company of his nephew. So Brad picked him up and the two of them made the short trip to the restaurant, coming home with a box of fragrant foods in little white cartons.
We sat around the dining table for a long time, eating every scrap, sharing fortune cookies and visiting. It was a marvelous evening. After Brad took Uncle Warren home, the two of us sat and talked until midnight. I was one happy mom!
The next day, my son walked to the Edmonds Bakery before I was awake and came home with maple bars. We sat and drank coffee for a while before deciding to walk to the ferry.
Actually, we ended up running, toward the last, as the ferry was docked when we arrived, and when Brad bought our tickets, he was told we might have to wait for the next ferry.
We hurried through the turnstile and ran up that seemingly endless steep ramp, laughing and panting, willing the doors not to swing closed. We enjoyed a fresh breezy ride to Kingston, where we meandered back and forth along the marina, admiring boats and leaning on the fence to chat. How long had it been since I had enjoyed such simple pleasure with my boy? Too long.
After we shared lunch with Uncle Warren at the Pancake Haus, Brad headed south to meet his hockey friends. Later, I sat in my living room replaying the visit, as I always replay visits with my family. Sweet.