Open for Business

So that I was sitting here yesterday at dawn, working as I do (client work, complexities of heart and head), when my cell phone rings. It's my kid, and of course I panic. Because what college kid isn't sleeping in at dawn on a Saturday morning? And isn't worry always my first response?

"Hey," my son says.

"Hey," I say. "What's up?"

"Just calling to say that I'm having the best time." That's it. No crisis. Just joy. There are details: The gift of friendships, of spontaneous decisions, of dances danced, of jokes shared, of a lounge movie watched at 3 AM, of a realization, six weeks into campus life, that the campus is starting to feel like home. "I walk into this party and I realize that I know most of the people there," he says. "Everything fits. It feels right."

I listen. I smile. I lean back in my chair. I don't ask questions; I just listen. "So you're having a good time," I finally say.

"Oh yeah. I really am. Just wanted to call and tell you that, because I knew you'd be up."

It occurred to me then, after he hung up the phone, that maybe I've worked this early-morning seven day a week shift all these years for but one good reason: So that my kid would know it was okay to call at dawn just to say that he is happy.