Irony

I fear that one day, my time here... as a mum, needed to do what I love doing most will no longer be needed.  

I am so completely in love with my children, no matter what age they are and who they’ve become.  

I remember Michael learning to ride his bike.  He was taken over to the park and they did their best.  Then after he returned home with grass stains on his knees, scrapes on the palm of his hands and a few days of recovery, we practised alone in a parking lot.  I’d run behind him, holding onto his seat reaffirming I would not let go.  I didn’t.  

Until he said to.  

It was bitter sweet.  I wanted to see him do this.  On his own.  I didn’t want to let go though.  

He’s now 24 and when he told me he was moving out, I didn’t cry.  I was happy he did it on his own.  There were no fights, no angry words.  He was ready.  

I miss him every minute of every day.  Although we are minutes away from each other, I don’t want to pry.  I don’t want to be an over doting mother.  

I do want him to know, I’ll always be here for him.  I’ll still catch him.  I’ll never really let go.