Letting Him Go

Watching him ride away, alone in the morning moonlight, bow strapped on his back, headed for the hills to hunt, I was left with a joyful ache in my heart.
They tell you raising boys is easier than raising girls, and perhaps it is when it comes to doing hair, putting together outfits, or sharing a bathroom.
But what they don’t tell you is that, as you raise those boys, as you pour into them, encourage them, challenge them, and expect of them, there is an ache that slowly appears in a momma’s heart, as they become what you have prayed for them to become- men.
Men that are independent, men that need you less, men that don’t want you to do it for them, or tell them how to do it, men that no longer need you to go before them or follow behind, but simply need you to walk alongside them, men that look at you as you drown them in your well-intentioned words and reply
“Mom, I’ve got this.”
And they do. They do have it.
This is the goal; this is what we have prepared them for. So, why does it hurt? Why does it feel like our hearts are breaking, and yet, at the same time, overflowing with pride and joy?
This season is a dance, and it is often more of a hokey-pokey than it is a waltz. It is knowing when to step in and when to step out, all the while avoiding stepping on toes.
It is knowing you have to let go while everything in you wants to hold on.

After his first solo archery harvest, animal on the ground, his voice rang over the line “I got it down mom. Dad is going to come help me pack it out.”
“That is so awesome buddy! I am so proud of you. I’ll send your dinner up with him.”
“What? Wait, aren’t you coming too? Mom, I want you to come up too. I want you here.”

I dropped everything and through tear-filled eyes I tied my boots faster than I ever had before and headed for the door.
He wanted me there. That once-baby-boy-of-mine still wanted me there.
I reached the top and embraced him, noticing that he no longer rests his head on my shoulder, it is I that now rests mine on his.
And I hold on a little longer, a little tighter.