I used to think I would have my kiddos with me until the ripe old age of 18. 18 years that they are mine and I can lay claim to them. This year I realized it’s not true. I only get them until they are 16.
At least that’s the way it’s been happening with Zach. He’s rarely home and when he is, he’s retreated to his room. He’s sleeping, studying, texting, watching tv or showering when he’s home.
The freedom of the car has taken him from us early. Once Zach hit the magic age of 16 years and six months and his learner’s permit became a true driver’s license he has been on the road, exploring the bounds of freedom I guess that’s the way it is. I’m pretty sure once I had a set of wheels, whether my own, a friends’ or my boyfriend’s I was long gone. My house was not where I wanted to be, ever. Once I hit 16 I couldn’t wait to explore and taste more and more freedom. I guess we could take the car and make him stay home with us but I don’t think that’s the answer. The freedom to explore life is a right of passage…I guess.
But I really don’t like it. I want to selfishly hang on to this last year and a half before Zach leaves and heads off to college. The greedy mama in me is coming out and wants to hang on with all of her might, not letting him go. I want the full 18 years I thought I was promised when I picked up baby Zachary for the first time 17 years ago.
But I guess I need to accept the fact that 18 will be here before I know it, and I need to realize I really only get them until they are 16. I need to hug and love and cherish every single moment because graduation day and the beginning of more freedom will be here before I can blink.
Oh, for the love of my children…