Downtown Missoula at 8AM this morning.
The view from Coco’s living room window around 10AM.
This past week I’ve been lucky to have spent some time relaxing with my son, Coco. During my visit, he was able to take a little time off from work and we went on long walks, played cards, and watched a few movies. We also cooked together… and several times Coco cooked for me. It’s pretty amazing to see the young man that he has become and I am very lucky to have had this opportunity to simply hang out with him in Missoula.
The other night, Coco invited several friends – Cody, Mason, Mike, Audrey, and Lynn – over to his apartment for a home-made pizza dinner. To prepare, we first went shopping for groceries. As we were walking back to the apartment, I realized that I’d forgotten to buy mozzarella for the pizza. One of the key ingredients and I’d spaced it!
“That’s okay, Mom”, Coco told me. “Audrey can make some.” I’d recently met Audrey and she is very sweet… but wasn’t that asking a bit much? And doesn’t it take a long time to make mozzarella cheese anyway? Well, the answer was “No” to both questions. Audrey was happy to bring over the necessary ingredients (a gallon of milk and some enzymes) and in just about an hour we had “fresh mozzarella.” I was amazed! All the years I have spent in the kitchen, and never once did I ever even think of making cheese! Well, I can tell you with certainty, that that will definitely change!
Yesterday while Coco was at work I made an apple pie for his friends and co-workers. I wanted to thank them for welcoming my son into their hearts and community. It’s such a good feeling to know that Coco has found a place where he is happy and comfortable, is able to survive on his own, and is supported by a close circle of friends. What more could a mother hope for?
Coco and me.
“You can’t make me be nice.
You can’t make me be good.
You can’t make me believe.
But your example, your kindness, your patience and love will affect me perhaps enough that eventually I may choose to do those things.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich