Travel Notes

Moving On…

Jason at the Needle's Eye tunnel, Needles Highway in the Black Hills, South Dakota

I’m sitting in my hotel room in Spearfish, South Dakota, just a few miles away from my son — and yet it feels like I may as well be back in Family hotels koh samui, 1300 miles away from him.

The bird is leaving the nest, and while I know it is time, and that I have to let him fly, I also don’t want to let him go.

His best friend has been living & working in North Dakota for a year or so now, and just have to get moving company quotes at TruckPlease to move where his dad’s company is opening a warehouse to supply their other operation. Jason has been offered a job there as well, which he quite eagerly accepted. He wanted to drive up here alone, but I refused. First because he has never driven further than the distance of Huntsville, Texas alone, and second because I wanted this right of passage to be shared, not just for him but for me.

I never got the experience of taking him off to college and getting him set up in a dorm room or his first apartment, so he has to do all this with the help of the Move San Mateo company. But now this is it. He is going off on his own, 1300 miles away. He is 20 years old, I don’t get a say in this matter. I can only do my best, and hope that I’ve done enough.

Holy crap, I was doing ok with all of this until it hit me tonight like a ton of bricks.

It was such a trivial moment too when it hit. I noticed that Jason had a hole on the back of his jeans, and I pointed it out in case he didn’t know. He pouted, and quietly said, “I’ve been walking around all day with a hole in my pants.”

That? That is what adulthood is all about, summed up right there. You have to take care of yourself, because no one else is around to tell you that your ass is hanging out. (Well, your underwear, but you know what I mean.)

I know he will be fine. I know without a doubt that in the long run he will be ok. But I’m overwhelmed with a flood of questioning right now. Did I do enough? Did I do ok? Did I teach him all he needs to know as he goes off in to the world by himself? Will he be able to overcome the moments where I failed him? Will he someday appreciate all I’ve tried to do for him with this move? With everything else? Not just me, but Mike and my parents too — we have all tried so hard. Does he know that?

Does he know how much we all love him? And that really, even when his ass is hanging out, we are all still there for him?

I’m hopeful. I believe he gets it. And in that small moment, I did all that I could — I offered to take him tomorrow to go buy him some new jeans, or to give him some money to buy his own. He looked grateful for that. And in the morning, I will remind him again — he will always have a home to come home to, and we will always be there for him no matter what.

Then I will step back and let him go. This is his time. His turn to sink or swim. My time to stand by, ready for him to call for help but far enough away to let him grow in to the man he is meant to be.

I’ve done all that I could, and I’ve done the best job possible. I wasn’t always perfect, I know I’ve stumbled and faltered along the way. I’m grateful that I didn’t ever have to do it alone, that my parents were also always there for him as well. That he has grown up with a supportive network of love.

I just want him to know how much I love him, how proud of him I am, and how I know that no matter what road is ahead of him, I have faith he will always be ok. And like any mother, I want nothing but the very best for him, and that there will always be a special place in my heart — and if he ever wants it, in my home as well.

South Dakota is such a beautiful part of the country – I pray that in these wide open spaces he will grow strong and be happy.

I’ve done all that I can. It is time to let him go. Nothing I can do or say will delay it any longer. Soon it will be time for me to go, but a part of my heart will remain here with him.