Mom’s rest stop – big hugs and good eats, no charge.

The Boy was home for a brief time this afternoon. We were just a pit stop, really, breaking his 7-hour journey from his university town to the city on the far side of our neighboring state, where his girlfriend is in school. Though I would have preferred a longer visit, I didn’t mind being a pit stop. Having him home at all was a joy.

Knowing he was coming, I of course had fun planning a supper he would appreciate and that would fill him up for the long drive ahead of him. Middle Sister and I worked together to make homemade bierocks (with just a bit of a shortcut in that we used frozen bread rolls for the dough) and homemade tzatziki (that yummy yogurt/cucumber dip that comes with gyros) to go on top. As a slightly odd side dish choice, I made a green bean casserole – pretty much the only form of vegetable the boy will eat. And there were chocolate peanut butter bars for dessert, which I’d made earlier in the afternoon. It was all delicious, and all the more enjoyable because it was accompanied by the conversation of the two siblings and their father.

One reason the boy was home was to give a voice lesson to a high school student – an assignment for his first music education class. He arranged with his high school conductor to set up a lesson with one of her students, and was so thrilled by how well it went that I got a full run-down of the lesson once he got back home (of course, this child will talk a mile a minute to anyone who will listen and to most people who won’t, but I still enjoy having been the recipient of his excitement). What he had to say made this mama’s heart leap for joy. He described coming away from the time knowing that the career path he’s chosen is right for him. While he’s known for several years that making beautiful music is his calling, he’s confirming that teaching others to do the same is fulfilling, as well.

And at the same time, he reported that he’s making progress on his minor and his “insurance” teaching certification, physics. If The Boy weren’t ZZ Top’s proverbial “sharp-dressed man” whose second skin is his performance tuxedo, he could easily be the mad scientist type, complete with Einstein hair. He’s as comfortable calculating bizarrely abstract physics equations as he is sight-reading a new piece of music.

And so it’s the end of a superbly satisfying day. Just one more punctuation mark needed – the call from The Boy to say he’s made it safely to St. Louis. And then I will go to sleep content.

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