Don’t expect a regular sort of post from me this week. Sunday was Mother’s Day–the strangest one I have experienced.
From the birth of the first child, we parents all know our goal is to “work ourselves out of the job” of parenting. To help our youngsters grow roots, then wings, until they don’t need us any more. They start out requiring 24/7 care, which gradually tapers off to teaching them chores and grooming. Before you know it you’re riding along while they practice driving. Then, boom! SATs, graduation, college or other plans, and they’re grown up.
Both our sons are happily married. Both have college degrees and bright futures. In short, they have lives apart from their dad and me. I’m incredibly proud of all our sons and daughters-in-law have accomplished.
So… Mother’s Day. I spent the afternoon at a going-away lunch for our secondborn, Greg, and Katie, his sweet wife. Later I went to their house to help them load their furniture and things into a truck trailer, to be freighted ahead of them to Portland, Oregon.
Meanwhile, Brent spent that evening helping our firstborn, Eric, load up enough stuff to camp in his and Heather’s new Lawton, Oklahoma apartment. The newly minted Captain had orders to report to Ft. Sill on Tuesday.
On the one hand, it was nice to feel needed again. I mean, with a dozen moves in our 35-plus years of marriage, I’ve had enough truck-loading experience to be useful.
On the other hand, within the next week or so all our “kids” will have left Texas. They take with them knowledge, wisdom, a willingness to work hard, strong character — and, seemingly, all the air.
From where I sit, deep in the heart of Texas, the stars at night will shine a little less big and bright.
And that’s why I don’t feel like writing a normal blog post this week.
Thanks for reading,