MUSINGS FROM THE MIND OF AMANDA

My son graduated high school. He graduated with an associate’s degree, was in the National Honor Society, and will be taking his National Registry EMT test tomorrow. Sounds like he’s all grown up, right?

Sure. That’s great. But he’s my only baby, unless you count the cats. He’s going to get a grown up job, not the eight hour a week teen job at the trampoline park. He’s going to be spending nights at work, instead of home and eventually he’ll give back the truck we let him drive and buy his own. He’ll get an apartment or buy an RV or buy a house, and eventually he’ll find some girl he can’t live without. And that’s how it should be.

But my mama’s heart is still a little sad. Where’s the sweet boy that used to grin and throw his little arms up so I’d pick him up. The little twerp who’d say something crazy and then giggle like a lunatic. The toddler who’d beg for me to put a movie on, like Milo & Otis or Cars. The crazy five year old who’d pick a song and demand that I play it every morning on the way to school.

Then he was a teenager. Moody, sometimes angry, but almost always kind to me. He still needed attention from Mama. He was in the 8th grade when Covid hit, and he needed to lay down with me every night for 30 minutes before bed. That was his safe spot. He still sleeps in my room sometimes, because even at 18, he still needs his Mama. He would do his chores, but only if I asked him.

And now he’s going to be an adult, and I’m going to have to be an adult. Like the song says, “Less a child now, and more a friend.”

I know that’s how it should be…and I’m glad that he’s going to be successful. But I still miss my baby.