A motherly lament
Today was a rough day. Today, my son moved out of my house for the first time.
Since he was born, he and I have been apart for no more than two weeks at a time (mom vacations). Usually, I miss my kids by day seven and am pretty much beside myself with day ten, buying anything and everything that reminds me of them. So today, this post will be a little more sentimental, a little uncohesive at times (I’m a wreck) and a little lacking in photos of yarn. I’m sure he’d appreciate the last part.
My son, Stephan, is such a unique character. Starting when he was little, he took his time to talk and spent most of his time in quiet observation. Or eating. He liked that too. He had these charming puffy cheeks that were always crusted in cake, potatoes, or whatever else he could find. He has an obsessive and questioning personality, one of very few six-year-old kids who would explain to teachers about how volcanoes worked with terms like “pressure” and “magma” and “pyroclastic flows”. I describe the phases of Stephan’s life by his interests: trains, volcanoes, tornadoes, the Titanic, Harry Potter, 3D puzzles, manga, carpentry, computers.
Stephan is such a strong person and yet he is still so very much my kid. I don’t know how we got here so fast. Stephan was diagnosed with Crohn’s at 12 and struggled through years of pain, needles, follow-up visits and weight fluctuation. I think of how he has grown into a man who makes his own decisions about his health care, and then I think about how moving out was this really tough decision for him to make. I realize how much he has grown into his own person, and yet how much he still has to figure out. I guess the hard part for me is knowing he will figure it out in the world instead of with me, and that I will only get to see the results, not the process.
I am so proud of him and I will miss him every day. I want him to find his path, and to always know that he can count on us to be there for him. He is never too old to need his mother. I know I’m not, and I miss her every day, too.
I don’t know how my mother did this nine times.