You see, my first born, my oldest, my baby is away at camp.
It has been a humbling experience...being so many miles away. When he called the other night, it was all I could do to keep from driving the 2 1/2 hours to just bring him home. We both would have felt better, being under the same roof, but it would not have solved anything.
When the chipperness in his voice turns to quivering, it is hard. I can't fix it. I"m a "fixer" by nature (possibly an enabler at times, although he would never think so). I want peace, love, and happiness (not realistic).
But this week at camp, he is growing, learning, discovering things about science, space, and himself. He is learning independence and responsibility (don't we all want the for our children). He is coming out of his comfort zone.
And Mama is too.
I began to regret sending him to camp. I began to wonder if it was really the right thing to do. Afterall, he is only 9 years old.
But I stop myself. He is 9 years old...10 in one month, a fifth grader in August, a big brother to two yahooligans. He is a Christian, an athlete, a member of the school Robotics and Academic Teams.
He is making memories that will last a lifetime. He is meeting new people. He is learning about things he enjoys. He is building character and learning life skills. He is doing something that most of us have never done (and never will). How can I regret that?
I love praying with him over the phone.
I love hearing the giddiness in his voice as he tells me what he did (can't believe he did the Space Shot!).
I love that he is taking part in the opportunity of a lifetime.
I love being his mama.
I love that I miss him, that I love him that much I'd rather have him home with me.
I love that I am learning to let go, let him grow, let him become his own person.
I love this kid.
And I miss him.