16 Years Young

Just over sixteen years ago (16 years and 2 days to be exact!) my world became a better place and I was blessed with an amazing and adorable gift. My identity changed perceptibly the moment I was inaugurated mom. However, the role I have undertaken as parent has not been a fixed one. As my son has moved from one phase to another, my parental role has changed immensely. During these independence-gaining transitions I’ve had an influx, an ebb and flow, of happy and sad. Knowing that someday soon (too soon, I reckon) I will be a partial empty-nester!  And this is where I am today. Feeling forevermore proud of all that he has achieved in his 16 years young, but grieving the chubby cheeked, bluegrass dancing, yellowboot wearing, little boy. And it’s hard. Hard to feel as though I’m loosing just a teeny bit of myself and at the same time, feeling so much love and joy for who this amazing boy has become. So, I will choose the latter. Because to feel anything but excitement and happiness for his bright future would be a dishonor to him and all of the years we’ve spent growing, learning, and loving.