Learning to Let Go

My eldest son got a big promotion at his job and moved just outside of the Big Apple a couple of weeks ago. As much as my heart strings have had to stretch, I am very excited and proud for him to partake in this adventure of a lifetime! Of course, the protective mom part of me is always concerned for his well-being.

We have family that live in that part of the country, but they are still wintering down south and while our son has acquaintances who live up north, I am not aware of anyone he is particularly close to, being in close proximity to his new digs. His work associates are still new to him and they are busy with their own lives and families. My son moved into an apartment without any roommates for the first time in his life. He comes from a big family. Oh my goodness, he must be so lonely! He might be feeling existential grief! (In this paragraph, I’ve just let you peek into where my mind has been swirling the last couple of weeks, in regards to my eldest son.)

So, of course, we have been texting my son regularly and keeping up with his life’s happenings. Turns out he spent his birthday (Friday evening) in Manhattan with some work associates and by the looks of the pictures, he had a blast. He made it safely back to suburbia and texted us beautiful, scenic pictures of a hike he took on a trail not far from his home yesterday.

“Did you hike there all by yourself?” was my tentative text.

“No, I did it with a local hiking group. It was great!” he replied.

Many years ago, when we did our first major move for my husband’s job, we were busy unpacking our things. Our eldest son, a budding first grader announced loudly, “Okay, it’s time to get out and meet some people!”

When he was in college, my son spent a summer semester in a study abroad program, travelling all over Europe. He told us that the Australian kids were particularly fun and wild, staying out to all hours of the night.

“I wonder how he knows that, ” my friend said snidely with a coy look on her pursed lips.

My eldest son has always been a confident, adventurous soul who lives life on his own terms. He has always beat his own drum, and his life’s rhythm has always been an upbeat, interesting, unique, spirited sound. Perhaps I should let my own heart beat along with his drum, instead of the slow, fearful, hesitant, projection of a protective, grasping heartbeat belonging to a loving mother who is having to learn to let go . . . .