Who'm I Kidding?

It's Monday night. The house is quiet. Last year he would have been coming home from school about now. The dog feels it, too. We sat in the front yard for a while -- not so much pining for him to come down the street but remembering when he used to.

Today was his first day of classes. There's Political Theory or Philosophy. And there's Environmental Science. And there's an English class, I think, although I confess I can't remember what it is. And Spanish or Calculus -- his next report will have to tell us which.

And I'm wondering what it was like. I'm yearning for little stories. His professors. The students. About Jimmy and Dustin and their games of dominoes. Or of making runs to the "five and dime". Or of frisbee on the quad. Or his favorite bench in front of the library. Or what working at the food co-op is like.

I can't help it. I wonder those things and hope that he'll call to talk about them. ... Who'm I kidding? Time to go to the gym!

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