A Letter to My Son After He Left Home at 18
It’s been exactly a month since you got on a plane and flew back to America,
with all my worries and fears
as well as my hopes and dreams.
Today I got to talk to you for the first time. Like really talk. On the phone without awkward pauses and not just to get a little bit of information you need.
You told me about your job. Your apartment. Your friends. Your life.
And it was good.
It was good to hear your voice and to be able to sense the happy.
You are doing your thing and you are on your own. Just like you’ve wanted to be for a long time. And things seem to be going well. You are working at a job you seem to like. You are going to church and to Bible study in the middle of the week. You are loving on your friends and you cousins and your extended family.
You are driving without a license which makes me nervous, but I kept quiet about that. You are working on getting your license. If you get caught without one and you have to go to jail, well, then I guess you will learn.
But even then, I begin to feel certain, that you will figure it out.
You will probably need a little help, but you will figure it out.
And that’s what you’ve been trying to tell me for a long time.
That you are ready to live on your own. No school. No parents telling you what to do. No Mama fixing your dinner and asking if you’re still hungry. No Dad telling you that you need to save your money. Work hard. Plan ahead.
You have wanted this for longer than I can remember. And I was pretty sure that you would be sorry once you had it.
Once you were on your own and you could see that it was just you.
To pay the bills. To buy the food. To cook the food. To clean up. To wash clothes. To get yourself up. To be the adult.
But you are a month in at being just you.
You and your friend. One bedroom. No internet. No car.
And you are managing. And you seem happy to be just you.
And I am sorry that I took so long to let you go.
I still miss you. And I can’t quite believe our time of being mama and son in one house, under the same roof, is over. I was not quite ready. I’m not sure I ever will be.
But I am proud.
And I am thankful for your pushing until you got what you wanted. Even if it drove me crazy.
And I know that it’s not just you. But it’s you and Jesus. And you will make it just fine without me.
But still. I’m glad that every once in a while we get to talk.
And if you ever happened to drop by, I would gladly still make you dinner.
I love you with all my heart,