terminal 3. American.

i just put a throbbing chunk of my heart on a plane.

there was nothing novel about this trip. back to school. far away. same as every year. but i don't know, something was different. for days now i had already begun to miss the little brat. except somehow, he doesn't seem so much like one anymore.

maybe it was the surgery. no, there had been seven of those before, each just as gut-wrenching as the last. but something definitely happened this summer; we wrapped our baby boy in warm blankets and sent him off on a gurney, but when everything was patched up, the kid was suddenly a grown man.

sure, he still rolls his eyes at things i find hilarious, but it's less of oh-my-god-i-can't-believe-we-have-the-same-biological-parents, and more like you-are-such-a-dork-but-i-love-you-anyway. he does things like stop and pick up something to eat when he knows i'm running too late to think about food, or get off the phone so he can talk to me when i get home. granted, that's probably so he can ask me to crack his back or massage the current knot in his neck, but i look forward to hanging out with him every night.

maybe part of it was the attitude. he knew he was going through all the agony to have a better quality of life, so he was much less sullen this time. and even though he didn't notice the difference, as the months went by we could see it. his face was less gaunt; that dimple he gets in his chin when he lies? just a little less prominent. and he made a commitment to get stronger, too -- working out every day, eating well and drinking Muscle Milk shakes. at the risk of endorsing questionable 'vitamin' products, i must say he's gotten noticably more buff, too. (however such plentitude of ice cream in the freezer has done the opposite for me.)

it worked. the doctor said he's only relying on the pacemaker 13% of the time, which allowed them to slow it down enough so that the battery won't need replacing for another 10 years. he has more energy and looks like a whole new guy.

maybe i feel closer to him because the recovery kept him at home more often. even with all this newfound maturity, there was more time to lock each other out of the house or watch old school Dukes of Hazzard episodes on DVD. just like the good old lazy summer mornings when we'd call mom to complain about how bored we were.

but now it's going to be just me and the dvds. nothing but silence to come home to. back to the same old boring routine. no walking through the door to catch him laughing at the end of Conan or Jimmy or an old bears playoff game on vhs. no listening to him talk in his sleep in the other room while i comment on the internet. no hearing, when i'm late for work and scrambling to find shoes, smartass remarks at defendants on 'the people's court.' (he'd watch that show three times a day if he could.) sigh.

he might have flown away, but thanksgiving is not too far off. and besides, i have him on speed dial. you never know when i'm going to need to remember Gary Fencik's jersey number (45) or a surefire way to make mom smile when she's irritated.