Friday, August 13, 2010
My son has lived in Phoenix for about 7 years now...maybe...I've lost count. At least that long and from his house to mine is approximately 1508 miles....almost 22 hours by car and approximately 4 hours by plane. Definitely a long way but my worry for him and about him is constant. A mother never stops worrying.
He left for Phoenix when he was about 18 years old. Such a baby going off on such an adventure but it's something he had to do for himself. My first trip to Phoenix astounded me. How did this young boy drive down the mountain into this town and find his way around? Get himself to work every day or find his homes? Everything was so foreign to me and him as well or what he had known or done thus far during his life.
He came to see us in May of this year and visited the cemetary where his father is buried as he does on every visit home. I looked through the pictures his girlfriend took and noticed these two pictures next to each other.
I put them in a double frame on my desk at work and look at them quite often during the day. It is a good mantra for my son.
He has made a good life for himself. He has a very good job as a heavy equipment operator that he trained for for many years. He has a wide circle of very close friends, many acquaintances, and has a wonderful girlfriend with three small children that he's grown close to. But still I worry.
He is 25 years old now. This week he started a new work project in Yuma which is about 185 miles from Phoenix. He will drive there every Monday morning, work 4 11 hours days and then 8 hours on Friday and drive home to Phoenix---for approximately the next two years. A hard job; a hard life but he's young, I keep reminding myself.
He left for Yuma at 7:30 on Wednesday night (my time). I made him call me. He did. He's a good son. He arrived about 10:30 (my time) that night. I had asked that he text me that he was there safely. He did. So I got a good night's sleep on Wednesday knowing everyone I loved was safe.
He said it's a long, desolate drive from Phoenix to Yuma. There is nothing there. Thank God for cell phones, I thought. What would he do if his truck broke down out there in desert? Call for a tow truck, he answers. A simple answer but he has had learned lots and lots from this life he lives in the desert so far away from his family and his childhood.
But he's happy.
But still I will worry, every Friday afternoon and every Monday morning knowing he's on that deserted stretch of highway driving by himself. Until I get his safe calls....for at least the next two years.
Arizona is lucky to have him.
AND I AM SO PROUD OF HIM.