I sit here on the eve of my little boy's departure into the great big world. Great big Wyoming to be exact. And my little boy happens to be about six feet and 230 pounds, but that is irrelevant. He's my little boy. And he's smart and strong and has an excellent education behind him and I am so very proud of the man he has become. And I am dying inside.
When did my own mom and dad’s predictions come true? You know, the ones about how the years will fly by and life will seem like it passed in the snap of a finger. How dare they be proved so right. My twenty year old self absolutely knew they didn’t know anything they were talking about. Now here I am, helping my son, Charley, pack for college orientation and a hiking trip in the mountains over twelve hundred miles away. And how I wish I could throw him and his brother and sister in the car for one more trip to Chuck E Cheese, one more afternoon at the old Kiddie Mia’s, maybe one more long, pleasant morning of me leaning against the counter at the East 80 library catching up with a week’s worth of goings on with the two other librarians while Ms Anita has a bunch of 4 year olds glue cotton balls on a construction paper Santa.
As I sat in the auditorium of Airline High School at awards day, I looked over my shoulder at my son and several of his friends sitting in the rows behind me. The same group of skinny 10 year olds that I had sat through endless CABOSA soccer games watching them kick a ball around the field, while at the same time trying to chase my then toddler daughter all over the sidelines. The same group that I had sweated through baseball games at Tinsley, and watched them make their first attempts at being a band in Cope’s gym at Christmas. When did they all get so big? They sat behind me with beards and sideburns and the confidence that only young men moving forward into the world possess. I wondered at the little boys that had played in my yard. Would Broox be a doctor like his father? Zach a jet fighter? Michael a lawyer?
Everyone close to me was surprised at how well I was taking my son going so far away to school. After all I’m the mom that wouldn’t even let them cross the street until they were at least driving age. I was all right until I actually bought the plane ticket. Then I seemed to have a really big problem sleeping at night. Mostly worrying about bears. Bears live in Wyoming and like to eat campers. Of course there was a bear here in Bossier City. I saw that in The Times where Wildlife and Fisheries had to come get him. Good, one less bear in Wyoming. After I pondered bears for a few nights and was assured by the camp guide that really bears don’t want to bother fifteen loud teenage kids, I went on to worry about....cougars. After all we don’t have cougars in Louisiana. My son might not know what to do about a cougar. The ever patient camp guide assured me again that cougars didn’t like large groups of teenagers crashing through the forest either. Then of course, Wyoming has lots of cliffs. My son isn’t used to cliffs in Louisiana. He could be running along, not thinking, and run right off one. At this point my husband usually puts the pillow over his head and tells me to please go to sleep.
How can a mom sleep worrying about her son maybe hanging off a rocky precipice in the American West because I raised him in a state that is completely flat? How can I quit tossing and turning thinking about that little boy that I walked into TL Rhodes Elementary and turned over into Ms Moody’s capable hands now climbing a mountain infested with bears?
And I realize that as I am worrying about him dangling off his own precipice, I am actually dangling off one of my own. That of a mother with a grown son who does not live at home. Now that is definitely scary, uncharted territory. Even without bears and cougars, it’s a scary wilderness to cross. I am so proud that he grew into a strong and confident young man not afraid to head off into an unfamiliar place and future. That would mean we accomplished what parents are supposed to do. But would I redo all those afternoons of throwing breadcrumbs in the Country Place pond, all those cold evenings of trouncing through Carriage Oaks with three little ones pointing out the best Christmas lights, all the dark quiet nights where my head was bobbing but I managed to finish another chapter of Harry Potter for my drowsy boys. Would I take on problem teachers and chicken pox again and worrying about strangers following them on their bicycles? Those days are past, I can sleep late and eat at restaurants without happy meals. Would I do it all over again? Oh, yes... In a heartbeat!
When did my own mom and dad’s predictions come true? You know, the ones about how the years will fly by and life will seem like it passed in the snap of a finger. How dare they be proved so right. My twenty year old self absolutely knew they didn’t know anything they were talking about. Now here I am, helping my son, Charley, pack for college orientation and a hiking trip in the mountains over twelve hundred miles away. And how I wish I could throw him and his brother and sister in the car for one more trip to Chuck E Cheese, one more afternoon at the old Kiddie Mia’s, maybe one more long, pleasant morning of me leaning against the counter at the East 80 library catching up with a week’s worth of goings on with the two other librarians while Ms Anita has a bunch of 4 year olds glue cotton balls on a construction paper Santa.
As I sat in the auditorium of Airline High School at awards day, I looked over my shoulder at my son and several of his friends sitting in the rows behind me. The same group of skinny 10 year olds that I had sat through endless CABOSA soccer games watching them kick a ball around the field, while at the same time trying to chase my then toddler daughter all over the sidelines. The same group that I had sweated through baseball games at Tinsley, and watched them make their first attempts at being a band in Cope’s gym at Christmas. When did they all get so big? They sat behind me with beards and sideburns and the confidence that only young men moving forward into the world possess. I wondered at the little boys that had played in my yard. Would Broox be a doctor like his father? Zach a jet fighter? Michael a lawyer?
Everyone close to me was surprised at how well I was taking my son going so far away to school. After all I’m the mom that wouldn’t even let them cross the street until they were at least driving age. I was all right until I actually bought the plane ticket. Then I seemed to have a really big problem sleeping at night. Mostly worrying about bears. Bears live in Wyoming and like to eat campers. Of course there was a bear here in Bossier City. I saw that in The Times where Wildlife and Fisheries had to come get him. Good, one less bear in Wyoming. After I pondered bears for a few nights and was assured by the camp guide that really bears don’t want to bother fifteen loud teenage kids, I went on to worry about....cougars. After all we don’t have cougars in Louisiana. My son might not know what to do about a cougar. The ever patient camp guide assured me again that cougars didn’t like large groups of teenagers crashing through the forest either. Then of course, Wyoming has lots of cliffs. My son isn’t used to cliffs in Louisiana. He could be running along, not thinking, and run right off one. At this point my husband usually puts the pillow over his head and tells me to please go to sleep.
How can a mom sleep worrying about her son maybe hanging off a rocky precipice in the American West because I raised him in a state that is completely flat? How can I quit tossing and turning thinking about that little boy that I walked into TL Rhodes Elementary and turned over into Ms Moody’s capable hands now climbing a mountain infested with bears?
And I realize that as I am worrying about him dangling off his own precipice, I am actually dangling off one of my own. That of a mother with a grown son who does not live at home. Now that is definitely scary, uncharted territory. Even without bears and cougars, it’s a scary wilderness to cross. I am so proud that he grew into a strong and confident young man not afraid to head off into an unfamiliar place and future. That would mean we accomplished what parents are supposed to do. But would I redo all those afternoons of throwing breadcrumbs in the Country Place pond, all those cold evenings of trouncing through Carriage Oaks with three little ones pointing out the best Christmas lights, all the dark quiet nights where my head was bobbing but I managed to finish another chapter of Harry Potter for my drowsy boys. Would I take on problem teachers and chicken pox again and worrying about strangers following them on their bicycles? Those days are past, I can sleep late and eat at restaurants without happy meals. Would I do it all over again? Oh, yes... In a heartbeat!
1 comment:
This one is my favorite. I still can't believe that Charley is old enough to go to college. I remember Rick and me visiting you all in New Orleans when Charley was less than one year old. I remember visiting you at the hospital when David was born. And now? It's all very unreal.
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