Eighteenth Eve

Twas the night before my youngest son turned 18 and all was quiet in the house, with the exception of Elton John singing his greatest hits. We went to his concert last week and cannot stop listening to his music. I had a movie to watch, a book to read, a show to catch up on and this is a very exciting time to watch baseball, but none of those entertainment options interested me. I looked through baby photos, relived some memories and basked in a sadness that hovered in my room. I know that they grow up, and its a good thing, but it is also a sad thing. When I was pregnant with Eli we acquired a book called "Father to Son: Life Lessons on Raising a boy". It lists hundreds of little bites of wisdom. #29 Display his artwork in your office, even the weird ashtray thing" #38 Show him how to call you at work. Then take his calls. Forever. #143 Teach him to give anonymously. #229 Don't dismiss any dream of his as too big. #310 Promise you'll always be there for him. and finally... #312 Teach him to call his mom. #313 In the end, let him go. We read through the book together and when we reached that last page, we both had tears running down our faces. He wasn't even born yet and we were sad about the day we would have to let them go. For some reason this one turning 18 has hit me a little harder. I'm so glad I get to see him grow into whoever he is going to be on his own. I am regularly impressed by his brains, his wit and his work ethic, but I miss that little guy who loved to snuggle, liked to chat with me every night before he went to sleep and promised that he would always live really close to my house. This guy is the person on this earth that I have fought the most for, with and against. I get him like nobody else, maybe even more than he understands himself. My heart breaks for his struggles, swells in his victories and longs for him to get to the place in life where he can be fully who he was created to be. Lucky for me, 18 doesn't mean leaving yet. But 18 means no more signing permission slips. It means step by step he will become more and more his own person. It means that we are standing at the finish line of this race called parenting and equally excited and proud that we made it through while looking back at the course knowing there are places where we could have been better, there were views along the way that took our breath away and somehow it all just went by so fast.