Sunday, October 5, 2008


Ding dong! ding dong! ding dong! ding dong! Snatched from a sound sleep, that sound stikes terror in the hearts of parents in the middle of the night! I shook my husband and got out of bed.

Heart racing, I grabbed my bathrobe and struggled to put it on while I ran to the front door. I couldn't wait for my husband to catch up with me; I just had to go. Oh wait, he wasn't following me. I'm so scared! But I have to know what's on the other side of that door.

I was aware of my heart pounding and the feeling that I couldn't catch my breath. Damn it! Where's my husband? I flipped on the porch light and opened the door. Standing in front of me was my oldest son, backed by two police officers.

Even then he looked like a good boy, albeit a little woosy. The police were polite and explained that he and some friends had been drinking. They were giving him a warning and a ride home. After thanking them and closing the door, I turned to see my husband standing there and my son next to him with half closed eyes.

"Just go to bed!" I screamed.

What the hell was he doing out in the middle of the night? I had always told him that there was no reason to be out that late unless you were looking for trouble.

I remember not too long before that night when saying good night to the boys, Tim would be scared of the foxes you could hear yipping on the hill behind our house. I used to laugh and ask him if he thought they could get in the house. He'd laugh too and answer, "maybe."