A memory

Yesterday, it crossed my mind that I didn't remember the name of a young man who lived with us when our girls were teens.  Several teens lived with us at one time or another, including our SIL.  This boy was a bit different, because when our daughter approached me about him moving into our home, it was - Mom, Mike's getting out of jail next week, and his Dad won't let him come home.  He doesn't have anywhere else to go, can he live here?  

We had the room and I didn't feel I could discriminate against him, so I said, Sure.  It wasn't easy saying, Sure, but it was the right thing to do.  After all, in spite of his record he was still a kid.

I remember his father phoning me and berating me, for giving his son a roof over his head.  I reminded his father that we had the room and my husband was LAPD, and it was our home.  I also remember how grateful Mike was, and how he followed our house rules.  I was impressed when he got up from the dinner table and automatically took care of cleaning up the kitchen, (not a house rule).

I talked to Sharon, yesterday, and asked her to refresh my memory of his name, and tell me how he was doing, now that he's 40.  I wish I could tell you that my saying Sure, turned his life around, and his future was a bed of roses, but that would be fiction.  He had some rocky years, and a bad marriage; but he has turned his life around, and now is in a stable relationship and working as a ironworker.  I told Sharon to give him my best and to tell Mike I was thinking about him.

Thanks for stopping by, we enjoyed having you,