This was an interior shot of Andrew's first apartment.

If ever I didn't know what was going on in my son's life - this was it.

It was his first place of his own and he very much didn't want his mom to be a part of it. He wanted to test his wings and fly solo. He would have been about 18 or 19 years old, I can't remember. I didn't know it was it would ever be important to remember - always thought I would be able to just ask him how old he had been...either way, I was not generally welcomed there.

He was working full time and had enough income to afford this place that as I mentioned earlier was "piece" of what had been a large house at one time. The front door opened into a room that was both his living room and bedroom. That room opened into the kitchen area and then there was a tiny dark frightening bathroom off of the kitchen. You could say the living room/bedroom and kitchen were pretty much one large room. When I look back it was a actually very roomy area.

Lots of light - the windows you see in the photo were high enough up that he didn't have to worry about any one pressing their face against the glass to look in. Consequently he put his twin size bed into the bay of the window where he could sit by day and lay by night and look out the window.

Andrew was a slob! There is no delicate way to describe his surroundings. He couldn't care less what anyone thought about it either. Despite years of training, arguing and tears he enjoyed living among piles of clothes, shoes, skateboards, guitars and books. Stacks and stacks of books. I have told you before that he was an avid reader and would have a book in every room that he was reading. Jamie tells me that it was nothing for him to be reading five books at the same time. Now in his own place he went from bad to worse. But as he reminded me often - he was the one paying the rent and it was none of my business....and he was right.

I believe this was a difficult time for him in several ways. He broke up with a long time girlfriend about this time and was probably more alone in that apartment than he realized when he rented it. He was quickly learning that some friends are not true friends - more like bums and moochers. I also remember a friend hanging out over there who had brought along another friend, a girl about 13 or 14 years old.

She thought Andrew hung the moon but Andrew was smart enough to not go near her. She would constantly call him and come over. He had to spend much of his time hiding from her. Many nights he would come home and park his car in our driveway and ask me to give him a ride back to his apartment so he could be home without her seeing his car and stopping by.

He became very restless and disillusioned about this time and decided he wanted to move back to New Mexico. (I'll write more about that later.) So sure enough he gave away all of his things and packed up his car and he and his cousin drove back and got an apartment together. I was so sad to see him go but I was also very excited for him.

I was always a terrible mother hen. Because of his illness I worried constantly about him. I drove him crazy checking on him to see that he was okay. I can remember waking up at 4am worried about him and getting in my car and driving by his house. I didn't stop because he wouldn't like it and I didn't want to admit how obsessed I was with his safety.

At the same time I knew I didn't want him to be smothered. I also knew I couldn't help but do it so in a very strange way I was glad that he left and went back to New Mexico. As much as I worried about him I also encouraged him to have adventures and never once tried to keep him "down on the farm". My life with him was a constant struggle to not be afraid and to encourage growth and independence in him. Ironic now that I think about it.

I remember two separate things about his place very clearly. One time I stopped by and he was there alone. He was riding his scooter (you remember they were all the rage about 8 years ago - these little scooters about the size of a skateboard with little motors on them) in this large loop through the living room/bedroom and into the kitchen. He never stopped while I was there. He was friendly and talkative but kept going round and round in circles until I gave up and left.

The other memory bothers me greatly. It was after his break up with the girlfriend and I stopped by to see how he was doing. He opened the door wide but told me that he didn't want me to come it. He wanted to be alone. I glanced in the apartment and he had sheets and sheets of notebook paper that he had completely filled from top to bottom with his writing. They were all taped up on the walls. The wall was covered with them. I asked about it and he said he was just doing some writing and that it was private. I worried a lot about him during that phase and watched him closer than usual (hence the 4am drive bys) but he came out on the other side just fine. Soon he pulled the writing off the walls -threw them away- and embarked on a new adventure in Las Vegas, NM.

Years later we joked about his "manifesto" plastered on the apartment walls. I will always wonder what it said... Irregardless, he was always able to overcome even the darkest hour and walk away laughing...I bet he's still laughing...