Letting go
When you become a parent, I think there is a magical, invisible string that connects you to your child. From newborn on, it’s always there, pulling a little, stretching, weathering. As time moves on, so does the string. As childhood moves into teen hood, the string is thin and haggard. Eventually every parent faces the choice of either cutting the string loose, or holding on to it for dear life. I’m choosing to let it go.
Maybe I shouldn’t say choosing. It’s kind of a forced matter, but not in a bad way. My teen son is off on a school adventure. He is headed to Monterey, to kayak for three days in the ocean and camp at night with new classmates and teachers. I’m trusting other people, whom I have never met, to keep my son safe in the big blue ocean while seeing otters and whales. That’s a stretch for me. In my over active mom imagination I envisioned the kayak tipping over and him getting tangled in the massive seaweed and kelp beds. I had to breathe deeply when I watched him head out on the bus. I prayed a silent prayer and asked the universe to keep him safe. I then got a very strong cappucino on my way home and went about the next three days.
What a strange phenomenon, the feeling of letting go. Remember when you didn’t want to let your child out of your sight? When the time you spent together was simple and safe? The biggest worry was about baby proofing the house and making sure they wore a bike helmet. Never in a million years did I anticipate having to worry about ocean kayaking. I never thought my kids would venture on a bus, plane or train without me. Now that time has come and it’s my turn to venture into something new too; a life that entails my teens having a life separate of mine.
I think I am doing an OK job of watching them take flight from the nest. My son took his girlfriend out to dinner last weekend and my daughter meets up with her group of friends at the park. Drivers Ed is right around the corner and I’m happily anticipating being the co-pilot while my son is behind the wheel. This year at school they both will meet new friends, which means I will put trust into new families driving them to and from social engagements. The list could go on and on, and as they get older I know it will. And for some strange reason I think it’s going to be OK.
Life with teenagers is just that. A big, unknown, all-enveloping leap of faith. Not a leap that you can tackle in one shot, it’s a leap that takes a tremendous amount of patience, kindness and understanding. My feet have frozen in midair plenty of times trying to go forward. I have fallen many a time too. But, I force myself each time to try again and to keep practicing. Everyday is a new day, a step forward, a chance to be better and to learn about yourself and your teen.
Now, as brave as I might sound, I’m still a big fraidy-cat. I haven’t had to cut my daughter’s string loose yet. She’s only just a freshmen and I know I have about another year until I make that decision. So I’m holding on tight. I can’t wait to see her forge her new path, and all the bumps along the way. This thing called parenthood isn’t easy, but I think I might just be getting the hang of it. Momma Bear is still here, she’s just incognito.
