Thank you, Picture People! July ’03 ~ Hudson 2.5 years
“Wait, have you tried on your tux yet, Hud?” I eyed the unopened cardboard box leaning against his bedroom wall.
Folding the last of his clothes, Hudson responded with a weary, “Oh, not yet. I guess I need to do that.”
I’d run upstairs to help him pack up from the weekend, trying to get him in the car for a late-night, two-hour drive back to Fairfield. This marked Hud and Shelby’s last weekend in Fort Worth, their meeting place over their past engagement year between her apartment in Dallas and his trailer in the middle of Central Texas.
“Yeah, I know you’re tired, but we’re less than two weeks out. Gotta make sure it all fits.” I opened the box and pulled out the pressed tux pieces, removing the plastic garment wrappers. I handed him the black and silver shirt studs one by one, and then perched onto an ottoman while he adjusted his “fake” bowtie. Hud muttered complaints that these rented bow ties didn’t actually tie, a lesser preference than real ties. With a shake of his head, he stepped back from the full-length mirror and pulled the black jacket over his shoulders.
In that moment, my brain launched into the kinds of images that ad execs strive for in tear-grabbing Christmastime commercials. Sitting just a few feet away, watching my 24-year-old son buttoning up the tuxedo he will wear in less than two weeks on his WEDDING DAY, all my mind saw was three-year-old Hudson playing dress up.
Little Hudda pausing his playtime to help me assemble a vacuum, reading books to his little sisters on the sofa, laying out each item of his little league baseball uniform the night before, and grinning up at his big brother in matching superhero costumes. That little boy in the grown-up body, with a mature heart and mind to match. His friendly brown eyes and ready grin have been stealing our hearts since 2001.
I tried really, really hard not to release a sob. Which meant I didn’t say a word. I just sat and watched, swallowed hard a few times, and then we called Corbin up to see Hud in his tux, wedding-ready. We talked haircuts and honeymoon flights, and I asked if he needed me to schedule him a fake tan. A little laughter to dissipate the lump in my throat.
One last quick hug and Hudson headed out the laundry room door, pausing when he noticed his pile of “treasures” on the laundry counter. Corbin had detailed his 4 Runner over the weekend, running it through the car wash twice to clear the Freestone dust and mud caked into every crevice. Corbin had also removed the car’s “clutter” before wiping down the dash and seats. Miraculously, I was at the right place and just at the right time, and I became an accidental bystander as Hudson perfectly placed each special item back into its appointed home. Every item in that pile of junkets held a unique placement and value. Hud described them to me as he carefully arranged them in place: a bracelet Basden brought him from Ecuador; a Kanakuk necklace passed down from the previous dock dad; a few tiny plastic babies secretly stashed by Sarah and Daniel, a stunt that I’d thought annoyed him, but clearly held endearment. All kinds of trinkets symbolizing siblings and family and friends and life markers. I had no idea.
Hudson drove away, and I plopped down at the dining table where Corbin was working. “I’m heading to bed for a good cry.”
Corbin looked up, surprised, and then offered a soft smile. “Can you believe Hudson and Shelby are going to live right here in Fort Worth?”
“Yes. But I need to cry.” And he offered another smile. I slipped into our bedroom and my phone pinged. One more pic from Hudson.
Actually, a video.
He saved the best for last.
We love you Hudson James, and would could not be more proud, more thankful.
Now, let’s go get you and Shelby married!