Apron strings become wings.

Guilty.  Guilty for holding on too dear.  Guilty for first thing in the morning and last thing at night thoughts of you..  For praying as hard as humanly possible for safety, for bravery, for love, endless love in your lives.  Guilty, guilty, guilty for hanging on long past the ‘perfect moment for letting go.’

The day my son told me he wanted to join the Armed forces, I cried.  My blue eyed, blond haired boy. The one I hated other little boys for bullying, or feeling second to at times. The one holding onto me as the new had him at cautious. No one hurts my boy, no matter his age. No-one makes my babies cry and gets away with it.  Harboured vengeful thoughts for those who did not invite my children to their birthday parties.  The joy of watching them run, play games, going to their first dance. Cried tears of joy at the sunbeams, the tutus, the prizes won. Held through the night.  Kept the letters to Santa and the tooth fairy.  Held their childhoods in my hand, in my heart, and forgot about the time they would grow up and leave.

Guilty for holding on too long. 

Truth is:  when the world got ugly I had you.  When relationships broke and others left, I had you.

Truth is: I need to stand on my own, knowing that I have done my best, loved the most, proud of everything you have become.  Son, daughters, children of my being.  I sort of did not know how I was going to go on without the control of being the centre of your lives, how I was going to become the centre of my own life again. Again, gosh, that’s awkward – I can’t remember ever being that. From daughter to wife to mother to now. I didn’t get the handbook on that one.  So perhaps I have held on more tightly than I should, for selfish reasons I know now, but in thinking this through … it’s ok.  It’s never going to mean I am not there for you, all the time, or stop praying and wishing and hoping for my reasons.

But those apron strings need to go.  Momma needs to fly on her own. Talk about giving you wings, I have to grow my own now, big white ones that take me from my comfort zone into a different place and it’s exciting, and scary and dare I say, about being all grown up. All of us being all grown up.

I know you have me in the your hands, in your hearts.  Your home is always in my soul. The thing is, the thing is, you getting wings and flying away from your childhoods, is me getting wings too. We are all going to take the plunge, dive and swoop, clip them and soar in our own directions. New at this letting go thing, but I am your wind beneath your wings as you are mine.

My son is the most interesting, ambitious and interesting man I have ever known and I could not be prouder.  He is a great achiever and I shall be the embarrassing mother with her fascinator on her head with the camera! My daughters are independent, gentle, strong and have the most golden cloud lives ahead – I did good. Better than good – being a mother is the best of me I have ever been. More than – I am beginning anew, just like my babies and we will have a different kind of adventure.

Still there for the calls.  The ‘Oh Mom’ times. Now I have to become the brilliant me, and home?  Home is never far away.  Home is me.

Images: lisa, lisa no cult and mom.