The young man in question grew up in Seattle and moved to a different city, as young people are wont to do. My wife wants our kids to stay close to home, but forgets that she boarded an airplane to a foreign country the day after her high school graduation. And the man she chose to marry – yours truly – did the same, except I waited a full week before I hit the road, neither one of us bothering to look back over our shoulders at the suddenly abandoned parents we left behind.
My son’s friend is an adventurous fellow (much like I was at the same age), and demonstrated this in relocating to a new town, where he subsequently found two jobs, an apartment and, of interest to this story, a girlfriend.
The friend recently came back to Seattle for a visit, and my son had a chance to catch up with him. “How are things going for you?” my son asked.
“Pretty good,” the friend replied. Except for one odd thing, we went on to mention. Before leaving to visit home, he mentioned to his new girlfriend that hadn’t made any decisions regarding plans for next summer. Specifically, his words were “I don’t know what I want to do during my summer.”
She replied, “Don’t you mean our summer?”
All of the tragi-comic nature of life is expressed in that one short question. The lad, a mere stripling, wants to be carefree, and anticipate his next adventure in life. She wants to build a relationship with the young man she –presumably – is sharing a bed with. Who does he belong to: himself or someone else?
I've been married longer than the average life span of a sea tortoise. Take it from me: there is no "mine" in a successful relationship.