On the day of my oldest son's 18th birthday, I remember thinking about what I felt like when I turned 18. As I dried my hair, it all of a sudden hit me, much like a sucker punch, that he was more or less through needing me.
And I cried.
It was the first time I remembered crying at what is usually a happy event. I've never been one of those mothers who cried at all the various milestones.
When my boys were babies and they first walked, it was amazing. I didn't cry. When my sons first started school it was exciting. I didn't cry. When they lost their first tooth, it was fun playing the part of the Tooth Fairy. I didn't cry.
This evening, I worked on booking my youngest son's flight to college later in August.
And I cried.
2 comments:
It is such a change to have them turn a certain age and leave home. You have so many young children who benefit from your experience and kindness so you have much to fill you with love.
Ack.
Other half is going through this. It's not easy, eh?
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