Mom’s Hungarian lodger Laszlo made plans to move out. Charlotte and her friends are at an age they’ve started experimenting with alcohol. Dawn and I began a routine of going out on Fridays for dinner and sat by the window as the light fell from the sky. Our cat Timmy, who visits with me in the dark of the early morning, sneezed on my cheek. The moon is still full enough you can see perfectly by it in the dark.

It’s good for Laszlo we agreed but that leaves my mom solo for the winter, which I’m not wild about. It’s hard as an alcoholic giving advice to anyone about drinking, especially your kids, but maybe there’s an upside: Charlotte seems to listen, and she’s seen the dark side of it first hand. I can’t believe I ate my whole plate and ordered ice cream on top of that, but winter’s coming fast and I need to stock up. Timmy’s forever congested and it’s worse in the morning; he’s not a cuddler, his motives to suckle are deep-seated and tragic. Yesterday at the horse farms the moon made a tin roof light up in the dark: it was so bright I thought it was a pair of car headlights.

Laszlo lived with my mom for a couple of years at least, we lost track of time. I told Charlotte that while some parents let their kids drink at home as a way to “practice” we don’t condone that at all. After the restaurant Dawn and I tried watching the new Frankenstein film on Netflix, which was visually stunning but fell short on plot. It’s probably better for the both of us he doesn’t cuddle. I like the halo around it most.

We’re glad for him he’s moving out because mom thought Laszlo seemed depressed just working all day and then sitting in his room upstairs doing nothing. I’m not so worried about her drinking because she’s got a good head on her (but look at me?). Dawn tried to pinpoint why the story failed but neither of us cared enough to dissect it. Timmy’s den is in the other room and I wonder if he recognizes the true den as mine. Is it an accident, or why does it seem like anytime there’s a full moon I hear an owl hoot?

The last time I visited we invited him down for a dinner party and made him watch Spinal Tap; I wondered if I’d ever see him again or if that was it. You have to just accept your kids are going to make their own decisions and hope they remember your advice when the time comes for them to choose. I kissed Dawn goodnight and though it was a Friday, went to bed at 8 thinking how different my life is sober. Timmy naps behind the sofa just by my shoulder in an almost-cuddle pose. The moon makes shadows so deep they’re like portals to other worlds the way they angle down.

Categories: Creative Nonfiction, Errata

Tags: journal writing, Memoir, parenting, prose