The Youngest

The one person missing from this domestic equation at the moment is our youngest son, who's the only one in the immediate family still in the States. In his final year in college.
It's odd for him not to be with us now. We all feel his absence.
Our family unit has always been the four of us -- the two of them, and the two of us. Since they're two boys, and only 21 months apart in age, they were always a unit -- and we were the other unit. They got along well too, which we know is a blessing.
And when we moved, which we did a few times -- to Hong Kong, to Italy, to the U.S. -- they always went through the upheaval together, had each other to lean on.
Now, my older son has moved, yet again, but he's missing his life-long sidekick.
For us, too, it's harder, because you don't worry when there's two of them as much. They entertain each other. They go out together. They wile away hours playing games. All alone is a different story.
He's been feeling it too, I think, all the way across the Atlantic in Charleston.
We've been calling him a lot, all three of us, all wanting to talk to him.
He remarked the other day on how he was the only one left in the States, wondering if he should come here too after he graduates next May.
Because that's the way it always was. The two of them -- and the two of us.
We've been planning his Christmas break visit. He's coming for two weeks in December.
But he wants to be back by New Year's, to spend with his college friends, which makes sense.
My oldest is so excited that he's coming. And I know he wishes he was staying more than two weeks.
We're going to be squished in here like sardines.
But it doesn't matter -- to them, anyway. I, instead, yearn for my old space.
I overheard my oldest telling his brother on the phone last night how much he was looking forward to him coming.
It's still two months away though.