Yesterday, my husband brought me a tray with breakfast in bed to kick off Mother’s Day. As he handed over a box of tissues, he knocked down a glass of water, which flew all over me and the bed and gave me a good soaking. We laughed and laughed.I’m so lucky to be married to a man I can laugh with. I thought to myself as we cleaned up the mess that I was smart to marry my best friend…after all in about 90 days, it will just be David and me in the house. (Plus the dogs.) Our son, our only child, will go off to college. There’s a heaviness in my heart, a weight that presses down, squeezing and hurting. It’s the weight of sorrow, of knowing my life as a mother is coming to another phase, one of being separated—perhaps forever—from my child. I’ve heard tales of boys who go off to school, find their wives, and don’t come home. And I get this lump in my throat which competes for space with my breath.
But it’s all good. It’s all right.
David and I and Michael have been a threesome for nearly 19 years now. We’ve traveled the world, starting with a trip to Paris when he was 22 months. Then to Cairo when he was 10. Living in the UK, and traveling for 6 weeks in Europe when he was 11. We raised our boy to be a citizen of the world. Did I really think he’d stay within driving distance? No.
The school he’ll attend is a perfect match for him. He’s going to University of Miami in Florida and he’ll study to be a civil engineer. He told us he plans to wear cargo shorts, tee-shirts and sandals every day. He’s asked for a surf board for his graduation gift. He’ll move into his dorm the same week our niece, Lexie, is having her baby, a little boy, so he can learn to change diapers. (We’ve assured him that babies are “chick magnets” for college girls. He’s skeptical….)
It’s all good. So why does this feel like the saddest Mother’s Day I’ve ever had?
