Letting Him Fly

I sent him off to high school today. I know I’m supposed to do this.

He wants to do this. He wants to grow up and be independent. He wants to pull away from me. 

I’m supposed to be happy about it. This is the way life is meant to be. We are compelled to be our own person away from our parents. But still.

My heart catches in my lungs and I feel like I can’t breathe. I just want to sit down and cry. 

It feels like that moment when I was teaching him to ride a bike. He wanted it so badly. He kept trying again and again. I would walk alongside him while he wobbled back and forth. My hand steadying the seat. 

Whenever I let go, he would fall over but happily get back on to try again. Again and again. 

Until that moment when I let go, and he didn’t fall. 

Suddenly he was going down the hill. Too fast. Wait. What have I done? He’s going to crash!

But he didn’t crash. He wobbled and then corrected himself. He got to the bottom, turned around, and smiled the proudest smile in the world. And he ran, pushing his bike back to the top of the hill so he could do it again. 

Relieved, I was happy for him. Proud that he was proud. 

I know there will be some scrapes. Hopefully, he’ll come to me and let me offer comfort when he tumbles. But maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll figure some things out on his own. Do some things the hard way.

Today I’ll keep a future image in my mind of a tall young man in a cap and gown. Smiling that proud smile as he walks across the stage. Lifting his hands in triumph and sharing that moment when we both know he really can fly.