before spring

Aargh. Ouch. Damn. I don’t even have the right word for the emotion. This dance of independence comes with a heart-wrenching realization that he’s going to do any and everything in his power to let me know that I am no longer wanted or needed. Dirtying the nest, some have rightfully called it. The push pull – complete neediness (usually disguised as forgetful, cluelessness) and the complete disdain for anything I might do on his behalf. What’s a mother to do? Stop buying his favorite cereal and planning pizza for dinner? Stop asking when he’ll be home? Stop worrying? It goes against everything I’ve shaped my life around these past 18+ years. And I know that I have made good progress in this letting go time. Really, I have. Trust. That’s the word that comes when I allow myself to get quiet. Trust that all will be well (though I’m pretty sure the mystic who said that was childless). Trust that this, too, shall pass. While I believe in those statements, their power to soothe is elusive just now. Trust is a good wintertime aspiration. In this time before the buds appear, before the maturity appears, before the letting go process has been completed (at least for this cycle). Trust. What I need is buried beneath the earth. It is in the seemingly dead branches. Like the brown vine across the front porch. I have learned that it is only by resisting the urge to cut it back when it’s past blooming, that we will see more growth in the spring. I hope that the same can be said of me.