Worrier Mom

For a few frantic moments last night, I found myself deathly worried. It was raining, it was way past seven in the evening, and my son has still to come home.

I am a worrier mom. I get worried when my kids get sick, feeling their foreheads every few minutes or so to check whether the fever has gone down. I get worried when I leave the house after having just cooked something because maybe, just maybe, I did not turn the stove all the way off. I get worried when my kids ask permission to go off somewhere, always asking them who they're going to be with, where exactly they'll be going, and what time they'll be home. My kids are so used to my worrier mode that they sometimes just laugh off my third-degree questioning; after all, there is no going around it.

And so, last night, I got worried again. He was supposed to be home before five but it was way past seven and still, he wasn't home. I called the school bus service and was told that he went home on his own. I asked my eldest daughter E: "Should I start calling his friends?" And with a knowing smile, she said, "Ma, they'll just hide him from you. Wait, he will be home soon."

And so, I waited, and waited, and waited.

And soon enough, he was home.

He was invited to a birthday party, he said.

He lost track of the time.

He was so very sorry.

I could breathe again.