|John, Nicole & Luke on Venice Beach|
They burst through the door and plopped on my bed at 6 am this Memorial Day.
My two handsome, long-limbed sons had just landed on the red-eye from LAX.
In newly-adopted, thick Boston accents John and Luke proceeded to share story after story about the fun stuff they did while visiting their sister.
I lay there in bed laughing my head off, while they deliriously recounted tales of the drunk lady on the plane, shooting baskets on Venice beach, and needing to throw up after eating the world's largest pumpkin pancakes.
I felt so much like my mother.
How many times would I come in from a party or high school show, plop on her bed, wake her up, and tell her all about it.
My mom would be so entertained. She'd soak up every word, with this massive smile sprawled across her face. I especially loved it when my brother(s) would be in there with me, razzle-dazzling her with stupid details and uproarious laughter.
Now I totally get it.
About an hour ago between newscasts, I called my daughter to see how she was doing all the way out there in California alone, now that her brothers were gone. She was sunbathing in Malibu. (I know, tough life.)
|Visiting their sister at UCLA|
"Mom, I'm so glad they came. I had forgotten how fun my brothers are!"
And to think this trip almost didn't happen.
I credit my Dallas girlfriend for making it easy to pull the trigger, once we found reasonable last-minute tickets and a plan that worked.
For decades Sharon had a very real fear that she wouldn't be alive to see her children grow up. She told me recently that she promised her now 20-something son and daughter, that there would always be an account to cover travel costs, whenever the siblings wanted to see each other.
That powerful story forever changed my perspective to seize the moment and not take opportunities to hang out for granted. I am committed to financing such special visits for John, Nicole, and Luke to help keep these siblings close.
I have no doubt the days they spent together in California will pay a lifetime of dividends in memories.
I can't wait to hear more silly stories and conversations trickle out over the years.
Particularly, if they happen at 6 am.