Our son, Howard, arrived at our front door carrying nothing but one suitcase. I looked over his shoulder to check for his treasured Mustang but only saw the yellow blur of a taxi cab zooming away. Howard just stood there with a blank face.

I was worried. I always had a good relationship with my son, and here he was, 30-years-old, just a suitcase full of clothes. I had no idea of what became of his other belongings, his car or his apartment.

            Howard had done well for himself. He had a good job teaching English at the University. He deserved it. He graduated Magna Cum Laude from Eckerd College and went on to get his PhD from Notre Dame. He was a smart kid. He was the young gun on the faculty, driving around in his flashy Mustang, one of those teachers you probably couldn’t tell apart from the students. He was as young and enthusiastic and ‘hip’ as they were. I think some of his colleagues were jealous. Maybe they started rumors about him allegedly having affairs with his female students. Maybe it had somehow caused him to lose his job…to lose everything? But how could I ask him? Did my son get kicked off his job for fooling around with some ditzy blonde freshman? I hoped not.

            Tragic explanations raced through my mind as my son stood there on the porch until he finally said, “May I come in?”

            “Yes, of course, come in. I’m sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. But please, come right in.”

            My son came into the living room. My husband, hearing there was a visitor, approached the living room. I startled him with my worried look.

 “Mom, Dad, I have something to announce.” My husband held my hand as we sat down on the sofa.