My son is out of the woods!
Back in June he left to find his way in life. Not his fortune, mind you - that would be, in his words, capitalism.
So off he headed to live in the forests of Oregon.
"Lots of people are doing it, mom." he said.
All I could think of was the movie "Deliverance."
The neccesity to survive is a driving force. He found a job at a telephone survey place, which I find strange. Ever since he was a teen his phone conversations amounted to little more than the words "OK," "Fine," and "I don't know." That has changed little.
"Why don't you call your mother?"
"You know I hate talking on the phone, mom."
His girlfriend met him out there a month ago, convinced he had become responsible enough for her to join him.
She certainly inspired him to become self-sufficient.
Now they found a little place to stay. Thankfully they won't be living in the woods through winter.
He did need money from his mother for the deposit on the rental property. I contemplated tough love, until his father said to me "I know you. Would you rather part with the money, curse for an hour (with that creative license you so aptly apply in cases like this) and sleep at night, or say no and lay awake thinking he's been abducted by some organic vegetable-growing, indentured slave type cult, who chant in long, nasal syllables, eat bulgar wheat, grow Rip van Winkle beards and have group sex?"
Well, that was simple.
I did remind my son of all the jobs he could do to make more money. He knows how to weld, do carpentry, work in a factory, sell tires, work fast food.
"Mom," he said with that patient sigh of his, knowing I had to be explained to again, because I am so dense. "I've come to realize that all those things do not cultivate my own, personal happiness."
Ah....
He sent pictures. He cut off his dreadlocks and his hair is a short, ratty mess, but in a trendy, tousled way. He still has big ear plugs and a beard.
He and his girl are going to make jewelry, candles, and tie-dye shirts. He asked our sizes for Christmas.
Whenever I lament about him to someone who knows me well, they respond "Boy, which non-conformist in life does that sound like?"
Me, I answer sheepishly.
He's followed the road less traveled and I am proud of his gentle, loving spirit.