Wings

 

                                                 I have no doubts that love gives our children the wings they need to fly.

In a panic, I crammed my feet into my boots, grabbed my pack and bolted as my name was paged. I ran hard until I reached the loading gate. My shirt reeked of sweat, I wedged myself into the empty seat, calmed my breath and watched the inversion evaporate out the window. As the clouds lifted, my eyes feasted on the first and last view of the mountains; illuminated and shining with the pinks and purples of dawn. My eyes closed, and I smiled thinking about my past week.

I witnessed it. The whole shebang. A kid born, he was the cute kid in my wedding photos, then, bam, he turned into a man and was headed off into the wilds: the same sort of wilderness that my mom once freaked out over. I mean, serious world experience. This man-boy, this Adult, radiating confidence and excitement, was thriving! He stood taller than his father, and between them, it was simple to see that unconditional love was the foundation of his evolution. It was blanketed over his shoulders, like a robe of energy and strength and possibility. It was a beautiful feeling to absorb.

My own children teeter at the edge of the nest. I have little mothering time left. I am in the here and now, loving them as much as I can. Privately I practice my poker face so that I can fully embrace those words, "Hey, Mom! Look at me!", when shouted. It will be the most terrifying and magnificent day when my kids spread their own wings and take flight.