It's another delayed opening so the morning rush allowed me to have a longer conversation with my almost 13 year old son, my youngest of 4.
"Can I walk with you to school?"
"But my friends will see me."
"And that's not good because?"
"Because you're my mom."
I felt a dagger in my heart. But then I saw his face and know that no matter what, I'll always be his Mom.
"Pretty please...I can walk with you halfway until you meet-up with your friends."
"Okay. Sorry, Mom, I guess I'm entering the teenage years..."
"I guess so. I lost my friend for now, and yes, I'll always be your Mom."
Now that you're almost 13, I have to keep my distance.
I need to let go and give you space to be with your friends;
I follow you walk farther through my eyes as my heart beats faster to tightly hold you close;
I utter day's good-byes as my ears await for a faint reply;
I stand there with both feet until your silhouette disappears;
I turn around, one pair of foot prints gliding through the memories.
For now, it seems, it's time to let go.