14 OctI Only Have Three Teenagers Left

The other day I had just awoken from a much needed nap. I only had about an hour-and-a-half before my next obligation and thought I might be able to get a page written on my novel. A page may not be much, but write a page a day you can have a novel done in a year. No sooner had I settled in my writing chair and  brought my computer to my lap than my son appeared before me.  The door opened and he was suddenly there in a whoosh of air. He didn’t say a word. Instead he stared at me with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I asked.

“Boomerangs?” he said.

I looked at my watch, then at my computer screen that was just lighting up. I sighed. This was a Saturday. Due to other obligations I hadn’t done anything with my kids all day. Once Monday arrived we would just be waving at each other as we passed to our various activities. This son just turned eighteen. He probably wouldn’t be here this time next year.

I nodded. “Boomerangs,” I said.

In a few minutes I met him and his little brother in the three-acre field behind my house. Our neighbor’s horses ate all the weeds over the summer, so the field was clear to run in. The mountains, a mile to the east, had a skiff of snow on their peaks. The white sitting on the brown and red made a pretty back drop.

I have been throwing boomerangs in that field for nearly twenty years. I started with my five older children when they were young. They are all grown and married now. I only have three teenagers left—two sons and a daughter.

I used to sell boomerangs on the Internet. Consequently I have a nice collection. I’m pretty good at throwing them. Often I can get them to return near enough to catch them. There is always an unpredictable breeze blowing that makes this challenging. Jory, my seventeen-year-old, laid down on the warm earth and relaxed as I warmed up. His little brother, Story, chased the ‘rangs for me. Jory looked a little too relaxed so I positioned myself to have a better chance getting a returning boomerang to hit him.

Jory kept one eye open for a two or three throws until he saw that I was having an off day. The boomerangs were landing ten to twenty feet from him. He closed his eyes and said, “I think I’ll just take a nap.”

Finally I got one that looked like it might be on target. Story, my thirteen-year-old commented on this. Jory opened one eye, raised his hand and very nearly caught it. I had missed again.

Finally Jory got up and started competing with his little brother to catch the boomerangs. They ran, and jumped, and bumped each other in the clean, autumn air as they vied for the catch.

My wife called me from the house and reminded me that we had an appointment to keep.  I really needed to go, but each boy needed to catch one more boomerang first. They aren’t easy to catch, but in a few more throws we achieved our goal.

As we walked out of the field, cheeks red and happily tired, I thought about how lonely that field is going to be when these last teenagers leave home. I’ll have more time to write then, but I wonder if the field will whine like a dog left in the backyard on a cold night. I may have to leave my computer now and again to walk in the field and console it. Maybe together we can make each other feel a little better.

__________________________________________________________________________________

These books by Tory Anderson are now available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback format: