“Hi, Mom. Can you pick me up?”
The words themselves sound familiar. They are probably uttered almost daily during cross country and track seasons.
Today, the words sounded different.
Caught in a momentary state of confusion, I wondered why my brother was calling me “Mom” and why he needed me to pick him up. He should be in New York. After all, that’s where he’s lived for the last two decades or more.
Then, my head came out of the fog as I realized that the voice on the other end of the phone was my son, NOT my brother, Brian. Over the last few months, I’ve caught snippets of conversations that have made me question the voice I have heard.
It doesn’t help that we went to the doctor’s office for a follow up immunization shot and he filled the whole space with his tall, lean body.
He will always be my son, but he is ever so quickly changing into a young man.
In time, I will recognize this new voice.