Saying goodbye

When we first moved to the area, we hated it here (okay so we still do, but that's not the point). The only people we knew were co-workers. We moved a couple of times before we found a "decent" place to live. We settled on a small trailer (it's hard to get an apartment or a house when you don't know how long to sign a lease. It's just part of the business) in a nice little community with some wonderful people.---Winter Texans.

Every year retired folks from the Northern States embark on a journey. They bring their RVs to Texas to escape the Winter weather back home. They are seriously some of the greatest people we've met down here. With a few exceptions of course.

Now some communities don't allow children because the Winter Texans want a stress free noiseless place to relax. The one we chose though opened up their community and their hearts to my boys. They were here for the last part of my pregnancy, asking every day if there were any signs of baby. Telling me they think I was having triplets because I was so huge. They offered to watch P when it was time for M to grace us with his presence. We had gift exchanges and community meals, music jams and birthday parties, bingo night and card games. Christmas dinner and New Years too was spent with this wonderful group of people.

Slowly over time the number started to thin out. It was time to go back to their Summer homes and see their grandkids and tend to the important things in life. It's just part of the cycle.

But this morning as I see one leaving, I sit here and cry. This man treated my son like his own grandson. Every morning P wanted to go say hi to Mr. Clay. He'd run over there and walk right in the RV. Clay and his wife didn't care, they love P. From the very beginning P took to Mr. Clay and when everyone was oohing and awing over M, P found solace in Mr. Clay's arms. He wouldn't talk to anyone else, and sometimes he wouldn't even talk to Mr. Clay if someone else was there.

P doesn't realize he won't see Mr. Clay again as we won't be here next year when they roll into town. Still I woke him up this morning, bundled him up in his blanket and walked him across the street to see Mr. Clay before he pulled out. Fighting back the tears (who cries over people she hardly knows?) we head back to the house. P stands at the door for a bit and just watches. Mr. Clay gives a couple honks and a wave from the RV and off he goes. P goes back to playing with his toys, but I will forever remember the "friendship" that was formed between my son and his buddy Mr. Clay.