Love Note. . .

From the time each of my children started school, i packed their
lunches. And in each lunch i packed, i included a note. Often written
on a napkin, the note might be a thank you for a special moment, a
reminder of something we were happily anticipating. Or a bit of
encouragement for an upcoming test or sporting event.
In early grade school they loved their notes. But as kids grow older
they become more self conscious, and by the time he reached high
school, my older son, Marc, informed me he no longer needed my daily
missives. Informing him that they had been written as much for me as
for him, and that he no longer needed to read them but i still needed
to write them, i continued the tradition the day he graduated.

Six years after high school graduation, marc called and asked if he
could move home for a couple of months. He had spent those years well,
graduating from college, completing two congressional internships and
finally, becoming a legislative assistant with his younger sister
leaving for college, i was especially thrilled to have him coming
home.
A couple weeks after Marc arrived home he was back at work. Since i
was still making lunch everyday for his younger brother, i packed one
for marc, too. Imagine my surprise when i got a call from my 24 years
old son, complaining about his lunch.
"Did i do something wrong?
Aren't i still your kid? Don't you love me any more, Mom?" were just a
few of the queries he threw at me as i laughingly asked him what was
wrong.
My note, mom he answered
where's my note?
From a little spoon full of chicken soup for the mother's soul.
Antoinette kuritz