Sunday, September 1, 2013

That Sound you Hear . . . .

If you happen to hear a high-pitched keening sound early Monday morning, it is not the U.S. attacking Syria. It's not a plane with engine trouble. It's not even Miley Cyrus attempting to outdo her hideous performance of earlier this week.

No. The sound is Tami's apron strings stretching around the world. I've done it before and survived. I did it in 2011 when Nicole went to Alaska, and again in 2012, when she went to Australia. Now I am doing it as Coryn walks away to go to Europe and then Africa for almost four months. His bags are packed, his yellow fever vaccine has been given, his tickets are printed, his insurance is purchased, and his Kindle is loaded up. He has such amazing adventure in front of him, I can't begin to imagine it.

I am beyond thrilled for him. This is a dream we have been holding for months, postponing in May when the seizure changed all of our lives, and then resurrecting when the family reached out to say sure, we still want him! (Thanks Laura and David!) I've bought his supplies, helped him design an online fundraiser, managed donations (thanks again to all!), and supported him every way I can.

But . . . the truth is . . . I will miss him so much, it's like walking around with a low-grade fever. It wears you out, it slows you down, it makes you feel off and irritable, and unsettled. It won't last long. He will fly out very, very early tomorrow morning, and I'll stand in the airport and cry (once he can't see me any longer), and then, as the days past, I will hear about his incredible adventures and be so happy for him I will be ridiculous.

But . . . right now, the idea that he won't be here to tease and laugh with, and to give the most amazing morning (which were always mid-afternoon since he slept in) hugs is hard to get past.

So many parents are eager for their children to grow up and move out and on with their lives. While I want excitement and adventures for all of my children, I must admit their leaving almost undoes me as I love and enjoy their company so much. Roots and wings, right?  I think the quote forgot to mention that flight is exciting freedom, but is not without its pain.


Ali said...

I dread the day (and yet it's what we hope for, of course). Ah, motherhood!

laura @ authentic parenting said...

this is so incredibly gorgeous, it made me cry. If I could only be half the mom you are, I would be happy. Thanks for sharing Coryn with us for a while!

Ami said...

I know it will be hard for you to have him so far away.

I'm interested in something, though. Wasn't he homeschooled?

I thought that meant they'd never be able to be out and about, never go new places or make new friends... did I read the wrong description of homeschooling?

Royster said...

Tami -

Got your letter, wrote back, and now checking your blog. I had exactly the same impression of what it must be like to send your baby into the world.


PS - that's a very narrow view of home-schooling, IMHO

Royster said...

Just finished a letter. I imagined pretty well what it must be like to send your baby into the world. Watch your mailbox.


PS - IMHO, that's a narrow view on homeschooling