Alyice on August 28th, 2009


Thanks For The Little Things

Yesterday afternoon, we dropped our son off at college, said our good-byes, and commenced to make the long drive home. This morning, I woke up in his room—where I had fallen asleep holding his pillow and looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his wall—feeling his absence.

Copyright 2009, Alyice Edrich
My son © Alyice Edrich, 2009

I tried desperately not to call him, but by mid-afternoon I couldn’t contain myself. I called his cell, but there was no answer so I left a message. Then I dropped him a really quick email that simply said, “How was your first night away from home? Did you eat breakfast? Are you doing okay?” So far, I haven’t heard back from him. I suspected I wouldn’t as he’s away for the ROTC camp-out, but I just needed to reach out to him—to let him know that I love him and that I am thinking of him.

This is the first time he’s been so far away from home and for so long. He’s 18 years old; a man in the sight of the legal system and a college student to everyone else. But to me, he’s still my baby boy, and always will be.

It’s hard to let him grow up and find his independence. It’s hard to let him be a man and make his own decisions without mom there to back him up—whatever the outcome. It’s hard but I know it’s his right of passage. And he’s worked so hard and so long to prove himself to me, to his dad, to himself.

I knew this day was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. For 18 years I took care of this boy. For 18 years he lived in the same house with me. For 18 years thinking about his needs, desires, and wants were second nature to me. For 18 years he was a big part of my life. For 18 years I looked after him and now, I must let him go—to find his own way in the world.

And right now, at this very moment, it feels as though part of me is missing.

I went to the grocery store today and it was hard. There were certain food items that I would always buy just for him and now there was no need. Then I came home and walked into the bathroom where I found his favorite toothpaste and it became hard again. Then I washed a load of laundry and found a pair of shorts we forgot to pack, and again, it was hard. Then my daughter came home from school, and the house was quiet—there was no horseplay, there was no laughter, just silence—and it was hard again. Then we went to Subway® to pick up dinner and there was no need to buy his favorite sandwich—Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki. And that’s when I realized, as the tears gently streamed down my face, that this letting him grow up is going to be tough.

And yet, I know that he’s only a phone call, an email, or a 6 hour drive away. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

Give thanks…

Alyice Edrich, Editor-in-Chief



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I'm a freelance writer, mixed media artist, SMVA, and the owner of The Dabbling Mum.

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