Mary Fitz worked as an librarian at the local University. She had met her husband there some decades past, and the place had wormed its way into her heart and she couldn't quite bring herself to leave.
She loved watching the students over the years grow into their own, familiar faces who would skulk about the corridors from fall to spring, only to emerge from the collegiate cocoon more confident and capable-and ready to celebrate the freedom of summer.
When the time had come that she was blessed with her own son, she thrilled at the joy of watching him grow. Little hands and little toes learning and making and doing. It was sheer joy when he started talking a bit early, even if he was a bit smaller than the other boys his age.
When he started to pick up on concepts more quickly than the other children, the joy gave way to fear. Fear that she couldn't help him as much as she'd so desperately wanted, especially once his father had passed away. He absorbed school lessons like a sponge, moving leaps and bounds ahead of his classmates-and then their upper classmates and so on, until he had moved into high school before he was even a pre-teen.
He was so far advanced academically, but he was still that same little boy in all other respects. The teachers' handled him with kid gloves and made special accommodations, but it was only inevitable that he'd have to deal with the resentment and jealousy of his classmates. It only hurt more to realize that any help she might provide would only open him up to further ridicule.
She had taught him kindness as a child. She had to teach how to build up walls to protect himself. She had long since come to terms with the fact that she couldn't very well follow him everywhere, so it was up to him to figure out how to best weather the loneliness.
He survived-thrived, really-by applying himself all the more diligently to his studies. He was off to college, when his hormones were just starting to settle into the mix. He graduated Summa Cum Laude while kids his age were preparing for High School Freshman orientation, and didn't even have the exposure to understand what those words meant.
Her child's brilliant mind was equal parts blessing and curse.
Many of her days were hard. But the hardest came when her then sixteen year old son was headed off to parts undisclosed for "one of the best funded research institutions," or so the myriad of brochures had assured them both when she signed on the parent consent forms. It would be a tremendous boon to his career, and he would be tremendously successful.
But lonely.
"Leo," she murmured as she folded him into her arms, still unfailingly amazed at the burden he carried on his slim shoulders. She couldn't cry. It would only make him worry. "You'll be careful."
He leaned his head against hers, hugging her a bit tighter. "I always am, Mum."
She smiled, slipping fingers across her cheeks to dry the tears before he could see them. Her fingers ruffled through his curls. "That's my boy."
His arms started to slide away, as he stooped to pick up his bag. Straightening to full height, she stood beside the car, intent to watch him get checked in until he disappeared into the maze of the airport.
He turned his head over his shoulder, waving to her with a rare smile.
She mimicked his actions before folding her arms across her chest, desperate to hide away her heavy breath. She already worried for him. Was it too much to hope that he find fast friends within the agency? It was enough that she was lonely without him. It wouldn't do for him to live life as lonely as he had been during his school years.
She could only hope for his sake that loneliness had passed.