Today I called my mom. I sat in my car outside 'the' Wendy's (down south we always refer to places and things as 'the' - the Walmarts, the Facebook, etc.) eating a quick dinner before making an evening event. We spoke about several urgent family matters including her brother's recent cancer reappearance. We shared openly about our feelings and our efforts to remain positive, hopeful - there is good reason for hope, after all.
We then turned our conversation to the customary checklist of each member of my immediate family - their health, jobs, recent sightings, etc. Mom always wants to know the report on the kids and spouse. After hearing my report, she concluded that all was well for this household. It means a great deal to her.
As we brought our conversation to a close, I told her I enjoyed talking with her and that I loved her. She said to me, "I love you, son." I hung up the phone and sat quietly for a moment in the car. One truth was clear to me. A man never gets too old to hear his mother tell him "I love you."
