i should have been a killer whale

My youngest son Nic turned eighteen a few months ago and he just graduated from high school. He has his own car, a job, half a degree, his own friends and a separate life.

I barely see his face these days.

Hubs constantly reminds me that it’s normal for boys to separate from their parents and seek independence. I know Hubs is right because the other two boys I made did the same thing.

It’s hard watching it happen. My body is connected to these humans. I made them. I logically know I have to let them go, but it doesn’t seem natural on any level for my heart to be walking around outside of my body. And moving away. Like to Virginia, for example.

Years ago I knew every inch of this boy’s body better than I knew my own -and not in a creepy-weird way. In a mother’s way.

Now I barely see Nic long enough to remember that his left front tooth slightly overlaps his right one at the very tip -caused by a fall from his bike when he was six that drove him straight into my arms for hours. I barely notice that his hands have man-hair and his left pinky finger still has a slight curve to it just like his Dad’s, and that he is dragging his right leg.

He. Is. Dragging. His. Right. Leg. Like Quasimoto.

I casually inquired about the leg-drag over breakfast yesterday morning and Nic casually replied, in an accepting tone, that he “has the knees of a sixty year old.”

I flipped from cool-collected-mellow-mom to psycho-hose-beast-helicopter-mom. Right there. In the middle of Waffle House.

I’m not even sixty! You’re eighteen! You don’t just accept bad knees! You have to let me know about this stuff! They can manage your disease. Oh-my-gawd!

And I was on the phone making appointments while my heart casually ignored me and ate breakfast with his hairy man-hands.

Today we had three doctor’s appointments and I went with him to every appointment. I drove. I filled out paperwork. And I talked to the doctor. Too.

Today my heart was by my side all day. He ate hot cookies. And he didn’t move away.
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