Shorts and the truth

"Mom, why are you wearing those shorts with tags?" my 15-year-old son Harrison asked me as I was clearing a kitchen counter.
I remember the conversation like yesterday, although it was nearly three years ago. I was embarrassed, caught doing something slightly stupid, something that seemed to happen with increasing regularity now that I had teenagers.
"Well, Harrison," I said, "I am just trying these shorts on. I bought them at Sam's, and I wasn't sure if I was going to keep them."
And then he said two of the the most perfect things he could possibly say:  "I think you should keep them," he said. (YES! Let's face it, ladies. Keeping the item in question is ALWAYS the right answer!)
But then here came the kicker:  "Because they look nice on you," he said.
Because they look nice on you! BECAUSE THEY LOOK NICE ON YOU! I nearly hyperventilated at this simple, unsolicited compliment, delivered casually as he was passing through the kitchen.
Now I know what all of you moms are thinking, and you are correct. Harrison is going to make an awesome husband someday.
I suspected this when he was a preschooler or even younger. He's always known how to give me perfect hugs--not too tight, not too quick. Just the right amount of squeeze for the right amount of time.
And at the right time. He often senses when I need a hug.

Harrison giving a hug to his sister, Laurel

Last spring, Harrison's power of perception stopped me in my tracks.
It was mid-morning on a Saturday, and I had returned home from a 10-mile run with my long-time friend and running partner, Kristen Doerksen. I was discouraged because I was having trouble getting back into running after taking off much of the winter to recover from a hysterectomy.
We were in the kitchen (where apparently, most of our important conversations take place). Harrison asked, "How was your run, Mom?"
"Oh, it was awful. I had to walk a lot. I'm surprised Kristen puts up with me, I'm so slow," I complained.
Harrison said, "Mom, you and Kristen have been friends for a long time, and I bet she's just glad to spend time with you."
I stopped and looked at him, thinking simultaneously, "He's right," and "Where did this guy come from?"
His response made me replay my griping in my mind. I hadn't fully meant it, not really. Just sort of. It was just a lie I was entertaining inside my brain. Harrison's astute assessment smacked of truth and made me pause.
On our next run, I relayed this conversation to Kristen, and as Harrison had predicted, she confirmed she was happy for my company and our friendship spanning more than two decades trumped any speed records she might or might not be setting on training runs.
So the takeaway value for me was to be more vigilant on the random thoughts I allowed into my mind. I was discouraged because I believed my forever friend was barely tolerating me because I couldn't keep up. But that was a lie.
I also saw that I need to recognize truth when someone speaks it into my life,even if it come from unexpected sources. Although I have to admit, my son is pretty perceptive.

Kristen and I ran the 10-mile Turkey Trot before Thanksgiving last year.