My Cry for the Day

It’s 8 a.m. and I’ve had my cry for the day.

At 5 a.m. I gave my beloved a sleepy goodbye kiss as he left for work. At 6 a.m. I heard a familiar clomp, clomp, clomp. It’s my older man-child. He has his father’s heavy stomp and wears heavy shoes to boot. Back and forth. And back and forth. I knew what that meant.

Nerves. Today is the first day of school at his new high school. He’ll be entering as a sophomore after 2 amazing years of home-schooling. I walk out of my bedroom and find him fully dressed, backpack on, popping his knuckles.

“Hi, love.” I venture, smiling.

“Hi mum,” He smiles nervously. “I know. I got ready too early.”

The bus won’t be here for another 2 hours. I hug him and  hold on a little longer than he would like. He spent yesterday settling into a new bedroom and that’s kept him busy. He’s a minimalist and all his few belongings are quickly finding their place in his new space. I keep marveling at how much he has changed. His arms are manly, sculpted. When did that happen. His deep voice resonates deep within me. His hairy legs and feet grow by the day. His sense of humor kills me. He loves 70’s music. Who is this man calling me mum?

He feels sick and wants to throw up but he can’t. I suggest toast but he wants nothing to eat. His lunch is already packed. He keeps looking at the clock.  It’s going to be a long 2 hours. I center him in the Lord to calm his nerves. I have him read Ps. 91 and Ps. 121, slowly, prayerfully. I tell him to lean on the Holy Spirit for guidance, direction, and companionship. At one point I sit with him in his room and chat. He is making a soda can tab bracelet. I love to watch him work.  He’s such a beautiful child. I’m going to miss him.

I tell him how much I cherished working with him the last 2 years and what a great kid he is. I tell him how blessed the high school is to have him and what a joy he’ll be in people’s lives. He smiles his little smile and keeps his eyes on mine. He’s killing me.

The hours feel like 15 minutes to me. No, he doesn’t want me to walk him to the bus. He’s popping his knuckles again. God, he’s beautiful. He grabs his back pack. Something deep within my heart is heaving. Upturning. I hug and kiss him at the door. I slap his back and tell him to have a great day. I shut the door. I shut my stinging eyes and the dam breaks.

I stand at the picture window. There he goes down the dirt road. Confident, determined, nervous, beautiful, trusting, brilliant, self-assured. Who is this man? Where is he going? Go get ’em kid!

o