Watching him get into his car and drive away sends flash backs of other first days of school clicking through my mind. Kindergarten, that silly smile and buzz cut with his button up Hawaiian shirt and a name tag pinned to its front. Memories of him fidgeting in line, his Spider-Man back pack dangling from one arm; bring tears of happiness and nostalgia to my eyes. I smile when I remember the excitement he could barely contain. Laugh when I realize that blonds would become his preference. “Mom, my teacher has hair like sunshine!” were the first words out of his mouth even before I could ask him about his day. That was sweet…and foreshadowed the girlfriends to come… but that is a different story.
Then there was the first day of 6th grade. He was the new kid at school that year because we’d moved, he was self-conscious and a little nervous, but he was a big kid and wouldn’t show it. I watched him get out of the car looking at the ground with hesitating footsteps…he glanced back over his shoulder with an uncertain grin and I wanted to pull him back in for one more day and just say, “wait son, you don’t have to be the big boy, you don’t have to make new friends! I’ll keep you safe!” But of course I didn’t, had to let him go…had to put on some of my own big girl undies and hold back the tears.
Suddenly it was the first day of junior high…wait, what? Where did the time go? My little guy is too small to be in junior high. He still has so much innocence…these kids look way too grown-up, they are going to eat my sweet boy alive!!! His happy grin faded a bit that year and the sullen teen crept in…but he never stopped hugging his mom and calling me mama. Even after his buddies razzed and gave him a hard time. You’re a mama’s boy they said…his response? Of course I am my mama’s cool and makes great banana bread!
Okay…so none of that compared to the first day of High School when I realized that my boy was soon going to be swallowed whole by this monstrosity of a place. Hamilton University they call it, with its 3600 plus student body and hallways crammed with tiny shorts and boys who look like men. Again I let him out and watched him disappear into a sea of backpacks and purses, binders and converse sneakers. Because at the end of the day I knew he’d reemerge, pull him self out and sit at my kitchen table and tell me every single thing that happened that day over cookies and Capri sun. Those afternoons when his sisters were still at school for an hour and it was just him and I are priceless moments I wish I could get back. I have so much more to say…
Freshmen year was the year his teacher assigned an essay titled “who do you admire most and why?” I cried when I read his essay about me. My mom is the smartest person I know and has given me so much my whole life. She taught me that going after your dreams is important even though she put hers on hold for me” he wrote. If only he knew I put nothing on hold and having him and his sisters is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
There are those who say mothers are the only people who let their hearts walk around outside their bodies. While I click like on the cute “love being a mom memes,” I can’t say I actually “got” that metaphor until today, when I watched my heart drive away in his mustang, crappy rap music blaring from the radio, tattooed arm hanging out of the window, dual exhausts roaring their goodbyes. “I’ll text you mom,” he shouts as he speeds away to his run down apartment that I imagine smells like nacho cheese Doritos, cheep cologne, and “clean breeze” Febreeze trying to cover up the stench of stale beer and dirty sheets. My heart is walking around Mill avenue tonight, unprotected, open, exposed what happened to that silly little smile and Hawaiian shirt? They’ve been replaced by Ralph Lauren button ups and a braces perfect grin.
Yep, my heart is now in the hands of co-eds and college professors. My baby is on the verge of figuring out his future and I can’t be there to catch him when he falls…no more cookies and Capri Suns or Sunday dinners where we talk about everything under the sun…and you know what? I’m just going to have to learn to breathe, and let go…
Then there was the first day of 6th grade. He was the new kid at school that year because we’d moved, he was self-conscious and a little nervous, but he was a big kid and wouldn’t show it. I watched him get out of the car looking at the ground with hesitating footsteps…he glanced back over his shoulder with an uncertain grin and I wanted to pull him back in for one more day and just say, “wait son, you don’t have to be the big boy, you don’t have to make new friends! I’ll keep you safe!” But of course I didn’t, had to let him go…had to put on some of my own big girl undies and hold back the tears.
Suddenly it was the first day of junior high…wait, what? Where did the time go? My little guy is too small to be in junior high. He still has so much innocence…these kids look way too grown-up, they are going to eat my sweet boy alive!!! His happy grin faded a bit that year and the sullen teen crept in…but he never stopped hugging his mom and calling me mama. Even after his buddies razzed and gave him a hard time. You’re a mama’s boy they said…his response? Of course I am my mama’s cool and makes great banana bread!
Okay…so none of that compared to the first day of High School when I realized that my boy was soon going to be swallowed whole by this monstrosity of a place. Hamilton University they call it, with its 3600 plus student body and hallways crammed with tiny shorts and boys who look like men. Again I let him out and watched him disappear into a sea of backpacks and purses, binders and converse sneakers. Because at the end of the day I knew he’d reemerge, pull him self out and sit at my kitchen table and tell me every single thing that happened that day over cookies and Capri sun. Those afternoons when his sisters were still at school for an hour and it was just him and I are priceless moments I wish I could get back. I have so much more to say…
Freshmen year was the year his teacher assigned an essay titled “who do you admire most and why?” I cried when I read his essay about me. My mom is the smartest person I know and has given me so much my whole life. She taught me that going after your dreams is important even though she put hers on hold for me” he wrote. If only he knew I put nothing on hold and having him and his sisters is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
There are those who say mothers are the only people who let their hearts walk around outside their bodies. While I click like on the cute “love being a mom memes,” I can’t say I actually “got” that metaphor until today, when I watched my heart drive away in his mustang, crappy rap music blaring from the radio, tattooed arm hanging out of the window, dual exhausts roaring their goodbyes. “I’ll text you mom,” he shouts as he speeds away to his run down apartment that I imagine smells like nacho cheese Doritos, cheep cologne, and “clean breeze” Febreeze trying to cover up the stench of stale beer and dirty sheets. My heart is walking around Mill avenue tonight, unprotected, open, exposed what happened to that silly little smile and Hawaiian shirt? They’ve been replaced by Ralph Lauren button ups and a braces perfect grin.
Yep, my heart is now in the hands of co-eds and college professors. My baby is on the verge of figuring out his future and I can’t be there to catch him when he falls…no more cookies and Capri Suns or Sunday dinners where we talk about everything under the sun…and you know what? I’m just going to have to learn to breathe, and let go…