The other night, I sat down at my desk in a sea of tears, realizing I have no desire to see my kiddos grow up and leave our house. What the hell is wrong with me? I couldn’t wait to grow up, get out of my childhood home and get on with my life. But my children seem to have the opposite idea which only fuels my sadness.
We went to get the kids’ passports taken care of last week. As the five of us sat in the post office signing papers and swearing on a stack of bibles we were telling the truth about their identities, I said to Zach, “The next time you come to apply for a passport you will be 26 and on your own.” Zach’s reply made me smile. “No, Mom, I won’t. I’m not leaving the house. I’ll still be there and you’ll come to the post office with me to get my passport renewed.” I should be a little mortified about his response, but I can’t seem to find the courage to get mortified.
Zach is half way through his junior year and talk of colleges abounds in our house. For the past two years Zach told us he wanted to go to West Point, following in his father’s footsteps. Not long ago, Zach admitted to me one night he really didn’t want to go to West Point. He told me he wanted his dad to be proud of him for wanting to go to West Point, but went on to say he really doesn’t want to be that far away from home. He wants to go to a Virginia State school so he can come home whenever he wants. I have to say, I do a little mental happy dance every time Zach says he wants to stay close to home.
My happy dance morphed into a full blown ecstatic dance when Zach said he wants to live close to his brother and sister when they all grow up so they can visit each other whenever they want. I hope life happens that way for all of them. I know they have to grow up. I just hope when they do grow up they don’t go too far away, because I really don’t want them to go.
Oh, for the love of my children….