I sit beside him in the passenger seat, looking over at this six-foot-tall boy who used to be my baby. My youngest. My third and final child. And here I am, sitting in a seat that lacks any sort of controls for this vehicle while his long legs stretch out under the steering wheel. He accelerates and we get in line to practice for his driver's road test.
How is it possible that he's driving and I'm not? How did we get here? His first 17 years are a blur; a smudge of everything pasted together that builds a life which goes way too quickly. And while I'm happy for him as he grows into his independence, my heart aches for the last bit of dependency he still had on me...running him everywhere he needed to go.
With this new freedom he will have, I will have my own as well. After raising three children, I won't be beholden to anyone to get them anywhere. I will have only my own schedule to keep and can do as I please (well, within reason). My nest is getting emptier, that's for sure. It's an adjustment.
We give them roots to give them wings. I loved giving them roots, but still struggle with the wings part. I suppose that's universal with us moms and comes with the territory.
So to take my mind off it I think I'll plan a trip to the beach....