A Bowl of Comfort

He’s tired. Mentally & physically. I know the signs. Even if he hadn’t said so directly, I would know by his texts and calls. I know he’s weary. He’s cut his social obligations down to about zero, missing a few events he normally would enjoy attending.

Today he posted a very insightful narrative on Facebook, sharing his current feelings with his contacts. He was open. Raw. Transparent with how he’s doing behind his mask.

As his mom, I want to wave my magic “mom” wand and make it all better. But truthfully, there’s not much I can do besides listen and encourage him.

And then it dawned on me that there was something I could do. Like most people, he doesn’t eat well when he’s tired. It takes too much energy to cook, and you can only eat so much pizza. I know his comfort foods, so I set a pot of chili on the stove to simmer.

It’s a small gesture, but it benefits us both. I get to provide a measure of comfort, and he gets one of his favorite meals. In reality, I think I’m getting more out of it than he is. But in the end, it’s good for both of us.