Actually, graduation has come and gone for Evan; grade 8, and Foster; grade 12. In the packed weeks of June both boys received new ties and shirts, and borrowed shoes and graduated. I am a maudlin mother, always tearing up at these little endings. The little endings that roll into beginnings. Then I wake up in the dark hours of morning, fear and anxiety grasping me. I feel fear for them, because they are older now and I cannot control their future. Gone the years that I controlled what they ate, what they wore, who they saw.
I am more of a caretaker now. Make sure they eat. Make sure they go to bed. Set down some boundaries, and give reasons for them. The 13 year old sullen, because he is 13. The nearly 18 year old on the cusp of adulthood.
My role had changed and it happened so rapidly I can’t even remember just when the change came. Reading blogs of younger mothers I can taste the joys and frustrations, I can smell the newborn and feel those sticky hands. But my time has changed. Moving forward from mother to me.
The other night I sat in the living room with Mat, the oldest and his partner Lu. We had the television off and were talking and laughing, and I realized that this person was once my child and now he is an adult I like. I like how he has grown up. One done, three to go although daughter Morgan is 20 and technically a grown up. She is a young 20, though. But another person I like.
In August I’m having a gathering for my two graduates. My sisters and maybe a few cousins will come and we’ll gather in the backyard, on the deck and probably in the garage. We’ll eat burgers and salads. I’ll make cupcakes with little eights and twelves on the top.
All we can do is allow time to move forward, and attempt to do it with grace and balance.