invariably His – Expressively HIS …
Here I go again. Into the unknown. Uncharted waters. A new phase of life.
Yesterday, my son called with the news that he finished high school. In October. Seven months early. I expected an end-of-semester call, not a two-months-into-school call. Suddenly, I need to get senior announcements out, make phone calls inviting loved ones to his graduation (next week!), plan a party, get party invitations out, make a college visit appointment, tour said college, and visit/choose/secure housing so he can start school in January!
Me? Oh I’m fine. Except my emotions turn on a dime. I cry at the drop of a hat. I can’t focus. I’ve got my own health problems, menopause, and burgeoning time commitments. We’re still not finished with flood repairs. The holidays are coming. A last-minute trip is happening soon. Did I mention it’s birthday month around here? My head is spinning. Somebody hold me. What is even happening?
And breeeeeeathe…
Back to graduation.
This baby of the family … this child of my heart but not my womb … this son …
I remember vividly the moment the pediatric gastroenterologist told me Johnathan might never tolerate solid food, thereby sentencing him to a life of feeding tubes. I didn’t believe him. Today, this man-child eats any and everything he chooses.
I remember in painful detail the moment the physical therapist told me Johnathan might never walk, thereby sentencing him to a life of mobility assistance. I didn’t believe her, either. So, I got on the floor multiple times a day with that baby, doing exercises, teaching him to crawl, pull up, and walk. Today, he accomplishes any physical feat he desires.
I remember the day the case worker told us to prepare for the fact that Johnathan might be given to a biological family member. I didn’t want to believe her, but my heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the very thought of losing him. Today, despite his past as a foster child, we are the only family he’s ever lived with.
Yesterday, he completed high school. My baby boy. My only son. My heart.
And my last little bird to fly the nest.
invariably HIS,
Nicki
