I've blogged before about my 20 year old son, but to remind you, he works (and plays) nights and sleeps days. So while our paths don't cross much I do feel comfort when I get up in the morning to find his door shut and hear his fan. I say a little thank-you prayer that he's home in bed asleep and all is right with the world.
Well, this morning I got up to head to my home office (to check the ol' blog for comments.) When I passed his room, I was stopped in my tracks by one of the sights and sounds I fear most.
Door open...no fan noise.
A view out front was minus his car. My first thought was that he had "partied" too much at a friends house and decided to spend the night. Or perhaps he was still at this girl's house he dates in Ft. Worth. I immediately checked all the phones for messages. Nothing. I called his phone. It went straight to voice mail.
It must be out of batteries.
I can't remember a time he's stayed out all night. He likes his own bed, his own pillow, his fan. And he KNOWS I would be worried if he didn't call. So this worries me. A LOT.
But, I'm the type of person who doesn't like to borrow trouble and I STRONGLY believe that worry accomplishes nothing. So I try to go about my day as normal, well, except for the constant checking of all the voice mails and a few visions of him pinned in his car where he had careened off of an overpass, or lying in a hospital bed with amnesia.
This afternoon, still no word from my son, my daughter and I went shopping for father's day gifts. While I was waiting outside the dressing room for her to try on an outfit (we had to buy something for us, too, right?) I tried my son's phone again. Voicemail. So I called my husband to discuss the amount of hours you have to wait before filing a missing person's report. He had no idea, but began telling me about his guilty feelings for yelling at our son for using his tools and not putting them back. I got teary eyed.
As my daughter was twirling around in front of me in one of her potentially new outfits I called my son again...and he answered!!! The conversation went like this:
Me: Where are you??? Why didn't you call me???
Him: I'm in jail.
Me: You're kidding...
Him: Uh, no...
Him: I'm in jail, Mom.
Him: At midnight last night I was arrested for minor in posession of alcohol. I need you to call the bail bondsman...I need you to co-sign.
Me: Why didn't you call me sooner???
Now, at this point I should be FURIOUS with my son. Lecture him. Something! But I was so freakin' glad he was alive, I couldn't conjure up any anger. NONE whatsoever. Then, the real kicker? He tells me he didn't call because I always told him if he ever got arrested for drinking to not even bother calling me. So he spent all day trying to figure out how to get out of jail without calling home. By about 3 o'clock he realized he couldn't.
So that's what we spent naptime doing today--getting our son out of jail, feeling like heels, and being thankful he's alive.