I came. I saw. I made his bed. And I left a piece of my heart in Pittsburgh.

It probably sounds silly that I made my 21-year-old son’s bed. Of course he can complete that task on his own (and has many times).

But there is something about knowing it is done just so. That the mattress pad is sufficiently quilted, the fitted sheet securely in place, the top sheet and duvet tucked in just a bit to prevent them from slipping off.

It is an expression of my love for my son. It’s one way I can still show him how much I care. It’s knowing he is comfortable at the end of a long day.

And it’s one of the last few things he still lets me do for him. In fact he asked me if I’d be willing to make his bed for him.

So as long as he still wants my help, as long as I am capable, and if given the opportunity, I will make my son’s bed.

Because I love him. Because he is my child. Because there are fewer and fewer ways for me to mother these grown children.

And because knowing he can rest easy in his bed in Pittsburgh, means I can rest easy in mine so many miles away from him.