A Port in a Storm

Max called me this morning from Baltimore where he is visiting friends.

“Mom, I think I lost my wallet.”

He described to me that he had been sleeping on a couch next to an open window on the ground floor of an apartment. He had looked in the obvious places and had retraced his thinking from the night before. He described that process to me as he thought about where he should put his wallet before he went to sleep. His voice sounded slightly panicky. I helped him think through the steps to take if he really couldn’t find it after looking further. I told him that sometimes I put things in a special place, and then can’t remember later where that special place is because it’s not the usual place. He knows this and he laughed.

“Look everywhere, and then call me back.”

At twenty-two and a recent college graduate, Max will still call me if he gets into a tumultuous place in his mind. He knows I will remain calm and that I will help him sort his thoughts out. I’m glad to be that “port in a storm” for him. And I completely believe that I am just serving as a calming agent and that all the processing and insight comes to him from inside himself. I can no longer rock my baby, but I can do this.