It’s that time of the year, preparing for fa-la-la-la-las, jolly men dressed in red and gift giving. The biggest thing for us this year is that my oldest child has moved out. I’m still in a state of disbelief, expecting to hear him. Yesterday I sat in his room for a long time, just remembering and thinking that I hoped we were acceptable parents and provided enough love and mentorship so he can succeed in life. Heavy shit this job called being a parent. I think the worst part is when other adults criticize you about it, especially those who don’t even have kids. I guess that’s human nature. It still doesn’t make it feel any better, though, when someone like that says it.
I suppose my oldest leaving the nest at 22 is a gift and not just because we have earned another room to redecorate. We’ve earned our wings, and raised a very smart, sensitive and beautiful person. I think this is our gift for this year, knowing we did our jobs, which by the way, is purported to be the most difficult and rewarding. This is something I will cherish until it’s time for the dust bin and the walk down the final path into the clearing.
Finally, this blog post is for all parents out there.
There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.
— Hodding Carter
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