A Mother's Day Redemption Report
Last edited Sun May 12, 2019, 06:46 PM - Edit history (3)
I am alone today, on Mother’s Day, but I am HAPPY. Today, unlike a year ago when I was in despair, I know what a mother bird feels like when she watches her young offspring take to the sky and fly with ease. I feel the pride of seeing the black swan, the UNIQUENESS of him; or the sense of WONDER to begin to recognize what kind of tree is sprouting up from a small seed that I have nurtured. I feel a sense of JOY that somehow we have survived several difficult years during which the butterfly restructured itself, inside its secretive cocoon, and emerged, with WINGS that WORK.
He has been a fierce untamed stallion. He struggles to have independence in everything, and he is so adamant about it that I mostly stay out of his way. I didn’t want to “break him” nor “pen him”, but had to try to do whatever minimal things I could do to be “present” with him, to be guard rails, until he had enough discipline and structured thought to tame himself, mostly. I probably did a terrible job of it; I’m not cut out for imposing order. All such efforts on my part seemed ineffective and often very painful. But now? So many bad things could be happening, that aren’t. One great thing is happening: He’s not here today, not because he’s angry or doesn’t want to spend time around me, but because he is adventuring, pursuing his dreams and passions, in the company of a true friend.
He becomes more patient, a bit more mature, a bit less likely to blame, with every passing day. I am in shock often at his competence, his intense focus on the things that he wants, his hidden talents, and a certain persona of confidence that he’s able to project, even among people 10 or 15 years older than him. He is at ease with himself.
A year ago, two years ago, it seemed as if hate and anger were bubbling up from the ground, everywhere. The fierceness of his breaking free of every vestige of his former self was a shock. It was so hard for me to keep one foot moving in front of the other. I’ve tried to continue supporting his dreams, even in the midst of times when he gave me plenty of reasons to not want to participate in anything, even breathing.
This is not to say that his dreams for him are the same as his parents’ dreams for him. But that is totally OK. This is HIS life, after all. And I remember, 14 years ago, when he was four, he was lying in a hammock on a beach on a rare vacation, and a sense of peace and freedom showed on his face as he rocked back-and-forth, and I was stunned that he looked so happy, so unusually happy: it was only the absence of anxiety or stress on his face made me realize that he was carrying such stress and anxiety with him routinely. I wondered, why does he carry those things with him at such a young age??
I have always wanted him to carry a sense of true freedom in his own life. Not to feel compelled to pursue any particular occupation, not to feel owned or trapped, but to be able to walk the paths and sail the seas that he chooses.
His dad and I are separate, but his dad sent me beautiful flowers, as he does every year on Mother’s Day. I can’t tell you how sweet and meaningful that feels to me. Eighteen years ago we three started an adventure. We are in three different places at the moment, but in spirit, we share a life-changing bond, and we have so much to be grateful for.
Today is a fine day to celebrate eighteen year journey. Enjoy your day, young man. So independent I didn’t even know exactly where you were going, when you left last night, though I knew what you’d be doing. It’s the best Mother’s Day present to know that you are pursuing your passion and on an adventure today, freely. Be free. Savor the day. I am flying with you, in spirit, my beautiful black swan of a son. Soar, and seize the day.
