The trial of the long distance Mom is to stay calm and supportive and let him handle it on his own, which he is quite capable of doing. He even used his "Talk Her Off The Ledge" voice when he phoned to assure me he was fine. I know it could have been a far worse injury. All those prayers and guardian angels I dispatch seem to be doing the job. My idea of winning a rugby game is empty ambulances on the edge of the field. This is football with no padding. This is, in my humble opinion, nuts.
And so I absorb another exercise in "letting go", a class for which I don't remember registering. Son Number Two is in Cleveland fencing for his university. I hope he doesn't come home with a dueling scar across his cheek. That test I would certainly fail.