At 7am this morning my son boarded the Dartmouth Coach bus to Boston airport. As I stood out on the curb, freezing, I waved with my mittens. My baby, my first born, is on his way.
He is in Georgia by now. He'll begin his hike tomorrow around noon.
He has been planning this since early January. I have been supporting his dream from the beginning. Now it is a reality.
As the bus pulled away from the curb, I followed it for 15 feet, waving frantically, mouthing 'I love you' and tears streaming down my face. It was over in less than a minute. He was out of sight.
On his own for the first time. I couldn't breath easily for a while but it passed.
I am still in town as I had to teach this afternoon and I am taking a class this evening. I am not looking forward to going home and realizing he is not there.
I spoke to him while he was at the airport and he sounded fine, if not tired.
He'll be taking a train from the Atlanta airport and then to a hotel. Tomorrow he gets picked up by "Survivor Dave" and will begin his long trek. If he does the whole thing, he'll be gone for 4 months.
I am hoping more like 1-2 months.
I guess he'll have to find out for himself.
I am not sure what to do. I don't want to live my life from a worrying place. I'd like to think positive thoughts about him and where he is.
About 6 years ago, he went up in a small plane as part of an flying awareness day for kids. It was him, 2 kids and the pilot. As the plane took off, I stood watching my son be taken away from where I could help him, comfort him, protect him. I lost my breath and stood there in a mixture of shock and sadness. In my silence, a women about 50 came over to me, put her hand on my should and said, "He's having a wonderful time up there."
I knew it was true and it helped calm down the monster that was clutching at my heart and lungs.
He was having fun up there. When he landed 15 minutes later he was beaming ear to ear. He was in heaven and his earth bound mother was happy for him.
I am happy for him today. He planned the trip. He worked hard for 2 months to save up the money for equipment, etc.
In the car this morning while I was driving at 6am he put his hand out to me. I took it and we held hands for a few minutes. That motion said more than words. He loved me, he was going to miss me, and he needed to follow his dreams.
I have spent 17 years taking care of him. He reached out today and took care of himself. He's a old soul and one that I have been privileged to bring into the world.
I am still holding his hand in my heart. I'll never let go. That is my joy.
May his journey be one of self-discovery, bliss and beauty.
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