My oldest boy recently invited a girl to his school dance. I was just looking at a picture of him holding his baby brother; he has the soft skinned puffy look of of a typical four year old. He's no longer that boy to me, but nonetheless I cannot fathom fully that ten years have passed, nor that he's half way through the pubescent stage of boyhood and girls have become interesting.
When did I become the adult here? I still dream about traveling about the world. I still wonder what I'm going to be in order to make those travels happen and I got nervous thinking about meeting the parents even though it's my son dating the girl, not me dating the guy!
We haven't fully fallen pray to the "supposed to be" which is likely why we can still have fun, and we probably never will. Life is short and we are all going to die. Why start any sooner than we have to?
G., who is still so young in many ways is nevertheless beginning his own life. I started teaching him how to drive this summer letting him get behind the wheel in a vacant parking lot.. I'm not one of those who isn't ready to let go, and I know when to push when they feel they aren't ready. But it brings a tinge of sadness to my heart to know that soon he will be beyond our full influence. That he'll be persuaded by his own heart, by the wiles of another, by the pressures of life's demands. We've repeated some of our parent's mistakes. We have rectified others. And we find ourselves finally understanding what they tried to tell us. That no one is perfect that no one has handed to them an instruction manual. You do the best you can, you pay attention, and you let them go when their wings begin to strenghten....
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