Love, Mom

Day 98 of my 100 days project

I was once your world.

I was the one you looked for when you were anxious. The face you scanned for in busy rooms, or at the end of the day at pre-school. I’d see your little head swivel around, the worried crunch between your eyes. Then you’d sight me, and the relief was palpable. The weight of anxiety falling from your little shoulders.

I was the one you wanted to tell. The good and the bad, the funny and the odd. I got the stories first. I was the test audience for all your best tales.

I was the one who held your hand. Walked by your side when you needed an arm, a hand over a curb, a step down.

I was the one you got mad at. The one who got your rage and your temper, because you knew I’d still be there when the storm had passed.

I got your dreams, the things that you hoped for, and were brave enough to speak aloud.

But somewhere along the way, you learned to keep your own counsel, and I was no longer the first face you looked for in a room. Somewhere along the way, you demoted me from Chief of Staff of your life to an off-site advisor at a foreign mission, one whose missives don’t always get transmitted in their entirety or read to conclusion.

I should have been ready for this. I should have known. You’ve always taken things slow, then galloped. You didn’t really speak until you were three. No babbling, no chatting, then seemingly overnight you went from ‘hi’ to pontificating on the Presidents. Walking was the same. You didn’t walk until four, relying mostly on me, or cruising, or commando crawling, then you were on your feet. It happened so quickly, it was like having the sofa run away - suddenly, you were on the move. Even college was the same. You spent two weeks away from us over the summer, the first two weeks you slept anywhere but with family, and then in the fall, you moved out.

You’re nearly a grown-up now, in every sense of the word, and your world is so much bigger than me. So much broader than I dared imagine on those days when I picked you up from pre-school. I’ve never been so proud to be left behind.

Love,

Mom

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