In the next couple of weeks the familiar strains of Pomp and Circumstance will ignite a myriad of emotions—relief, excitement, trepidation, expectation, regret perhaps—but certainly anticipation of a new season of life, regardless of the milestone the ceremony represents.
I smile at the cuteness when a five-year-old walks down the aisle sporting a miniature cap and gown, yet emotion wells up inside me because I know this marks the beginning of a series of new beginnings for the child, and each graduation signifies another step of separation from childhood to adulthood.
…
I’m not always ready to embrace that step.
Recently, a good friend shared a photo of three moms (including myself) taken the day we moved our sons into their college apartment. We reminisced over the fun we had then, shopping dollar stores and grocery stores, setting up housekeeping for our boys.
That day we commented how it seemed only a short time since we’d watched them playing tee ball together and now here they were at the end of their teenage. We speculated over how frequently they’d wash their sheets, where they would live after graduation, whom they might marry, how many times they’d change their declared majors. When we’d finished moving them in, we all went to the popular burger place on campus and relished double cheeseburgers, fries, and a milkshake. Then all the way home we confessed our guilt for indulging ourselves. It was such a fun day.
That was 22 years ago. These sons are now business owners and fathers. They’re experiencing the first of many graduations in their own children’s lives. Before they’re ready for it, they’ll be wondering how the years disappeared so fast.
There’s a book entitled Wild Things: the art of nurturing boys, by Stephen James and David Thomas. My only issue with the book is that I should have written it first. (That’s my way of saying how much I agree with what they wrote, based on my own experience of rearing sons.) They made one statement, however, that I have a hard time accepting. They said,
“A powerful paradox of motherhood is that if you do your job well, your son will leave you completely.”
Hmm… does he have to?
Thankfully, I have no regrets. I loved the brief period when I was the center of their lives. I loved seeing them develop physically, mentally, and spiritually. I love the men they have become. I love knowing that, although they don’t depend on me physically or emotionally, they treasure the relationship we have as we now have to “adult” together.