I was not fond of Benjamin this morning between six and six fifty. He was more reluctant than usual to crawl out of bed, shower, swallow toast and saunter out to the bus. Last week was his spring break, and he spent more hours than I care to admit in front of the computer. I wouldn't even mind how many times he rewatched Rescuers Down Under, if he watched the whole thing. But he rewatched the same scene. Ad nauseum. Now I like repetition as much as the next person, but give me a break. I can recite Zsa Zsa Gabor's lines as easily as the pledge of allegiance. It played in the background while I pieced a quilt, built a fire, washed dishes, pieced another quilt, finished my novel. 

His reluctance pivoted on the fact that he signed up for photography. Turns out he does not like photography. Or at least he is indignant that it comes at the time that his favorite buddy visits the classroom. Hence he does not get to see her. She is one of the saintly seventeen year olds who volunteer in the Life skills room. Just to be nice. 

We sat together while he ate his toast in annoyingly small bites, and I kept checking the window for flashing lights. Then he texted someone. I leaned in. 

"Who is Rachel?" I wondered if this person would mind a text before sunrise.

People are impressed that the Pope washed the feet of homeless people and Muslims, and I am too, but where are the accolades for these teenagers who show up every blessed day to hang out with the quirky kids? They seem not to care if it impacts their popularity ratings, which if memory serves was kind of a big deal in high school. Just then his phone dinged. Rachel wrote back.

"She is a buddy," he answered between letters. 

Rachel made time for him? She is willing to be friendly to him when she obviously has more important things to do like fix her hair?

The thought occurred to me that people like Ben. Someone, I forget who just now, invited him to the dance this Saturday. I need to get on those details. And tonight he is going to dinner at the Red Robin with a group of friends. Mercy came this week to walk him through the registration process, so that he can vote. And  Hosanna had a fabulous time playing with him at the Pixar exhibit yesterday. 

It let in just enough room for the remembrance that I like Ben too. When we are not waiting for the bus, that is. Or listening to Zsa Zsa Gabor. 

The flashing lights arrived and I pushed Ben out the door, half a piece of toast in his hand. As the door swung behind him I could just barely believe that I actually love him to infinity. And beyond.