I was a little surprised at all of us standing around looking at each other after our initial hugs at the airport, greeting our oldest son after two years apart. I guess we never thought about what would happen next. Thankfully we had a task before us that helped ease the awkwardness and we located his luggage. With nothing more to do at the airport, we loaded up and headed home.
We immediately found his totes we’d stored and moved in the garages, and he began the digging process, trying to find regular clothes and shoes to wear. We only had about an hour before we had to go get him officially released as a missionary. After returning home we had a quick dinner on the patio and spent some of the evening at Scheels and Kohls, visiting with some friends on the way home. We stayed up talking till about 11. And that was his re-entry.
I asked him what he was thinking, how it felt. Like a dream. Like I’m just home from college. Like it never really happened. I wondered if we needed to get him someone to talk to. But then I started asking our friends what their returning reaction was. Exactly the same!!! I think that was validating for all of us.
I asked him outright because I wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep talking about it or if he wanted to move on. I didn’t want to keep re-hashing the last two years if he was wanting to put it behind him and focus on the future, but I didn’t want to sweep it all under the rug and just leave it in the past, pretending that I didn’t have a million questions I wanted to ask. For the most part, we’ve bounced back and forth between the two worlds. We’ve inevitably had to talk about classes and what he’ll need for getting back into school, we got his license renewed and his phone and computer are up and running. But I love how little things have sparked a conversation about California or a person he taught. We remembered a lot of the stories and people from his letters and emails, so we were excited to find out how they’re doing and what they’ve been up to. And so we’ll talk about Elder Herrerra one minute and ask if he needs jeans the next. I hope it’s ok, I have no handbook on what we’re supposed to be doing. Maybe it’s how an adoptive family feels with a new child joining in. But then hopefully the mothering instinct kicks in and I won’t have to think about it so much.
And he’s so quiet compared to the other four. We can’t tell if he’s just like this naturally, has he always been a little shy, or is he just trying to process everything? It’s hard to know because he’s been gone for essentially three years with only a handful of days at home with us. And he wasn’t really ever that open or talkative back then. So we can’t decide if it’s just his personality or if he’s just adjusting or if he’s disappointed in his come-back, if he misses his mission, or if he’s content, like the rest of us usually are. We don’t need to talk much in our family, so maybe he’s fine.
I’ll be honest, the first (and only) full day I had with him, I was a bit weepy once I got on my own in the afternoon. We went on a walk, he did dishes without being asked, he showed me his study book that he’d handwritten all sorts of quotes and scriptures in, I saw that he filled up two other journals, he ironed his casual shirts and shorts, and he went shopping all afternoon alone. I had the most unexpected emotional reaction, one I never would’ve anticipated. I felt like a failure as a mom. If all it took was two years with a bunch of strangers to teach him everything I’d worked nearly 20 years on teaching him, what was I even for? What good was I as a mom when it would all work out in a mere 24 months away from me? Why were they so good at what they did and why did nothing I’d taught sink in? He makes his bed now. He shared a beautiful scripture thought with us that first night, completely filling my heart; his copies of the scriptures are highlighted and well-read, something we’d encouraged for years and years. He is tidy, thoughtful, thrifty, and health-conscious all of a sudden, all qualities we’ve been trying to instill in him his whole life. I couldn’t help but feel discarded and unnecessary and melancholy. Isn’t that the weirdest reaction you can think of?
I guess I’m not sure what he needs me to be anymore. What’s my role? To pass along some money for school clothes? To call him in when we’re doing scripture and prayer? Tell him we’re eating? And then what? Does a grown man even need a mom? For what? I want so much to get it right; I feel so intensely all the mistakes I made when he lived with us before. So I’m just a little tentative. Like I imagine a new puppy might feel breaking in its new home; innately she knows what a puppy wants to do, but she’s unsure how to navigate this new place she’s found herself in.
This morning he left at 6 with his little brother to go biking all day. My heart has felt a literal soreness/tightness all day, like it’s been re-injured. I was so thrilled to have him home with us, to laugh and tease and hear his funny ways after such a long time, but it felt like he was ripped away from me all over again. We will be apart for another week, together for just a short few days and then back to school. I’m trying to be ok with our new normal. But I long to just have our family together like in the olden days. I don’t want this separation to continue on and on and on. My heart’s been pulled here and there so much over the past few years, I want to let it settle. I want our reunion to last. Until it feels normal again.
