This week, with Samuel applying for a job and opening a bank account and things like that, has had me thinking about learning to let him go. I thought that I had done that, but every time he'd be gone down to WA to do these things, I'd be worried about him deep down inside. If you'd asked me if I were worried, I'd have said no, because I didn't realize that I was. But yesterday, he was telling us at supper how the teller at the bank had helped him with his bank forms. She was helpful and courteous. Then the lady at the post office was nice too. He had stopped by to register for Selective Service, but they didn't have any more forms there. He stopped at the library to see if they had them, and the ladies there were nice and helpful. As he's telling me all this, I found my stomach tying up in knots thinking of him running all over the place trying to get these things done. Then, with each instance resolved by helpful people, I would relax again. Then I realized . . . I was still thinking like the mother of a little boy! LOL I was worried that he couldn't take care of himself, and that no one would help him.
The same thing happened last night when I learned from someone else that the place he'll be working next week is hard and expects just short of perfection from its employees (that means they expect good work). My very first thought was that they would hurt him! Today, that seems preposterous, but last night, I was ready to fight for my cub! LOL I even asked Wes if they would hurt him, at the moment that thought hit my mama brain, and he looked at me like I had two heads or something. I don't blame him. And poor Sam was sitting there with this look of disbelief on his face.
These are feelings I didn't even realize were in my heart. I think it's just part of mothering; you know, I've spent the past 18 years making sure he was fed and clothed and clean and doing everything I could to protect him from any harm. When he lost a bunch of weight in a short amount of time, I quizzed him on how he was feeling and what he was eating. When he began to drive and I was the one in the car with him, I'd tell him what he should or should not be doing (I know it drove him crazy, but that's my job - to drive him crazy!). Now those things are changing. He actually opened a bank account without his dad right beside him. I bet he even chose his own PIN number! He's registered with Selective Service (I won't go there - I abhor the thought of my son being old enough for military service). He drives. All by himself. And he gets home safely even. Without me in the car telling him what to do. Amazing!
What I'm having to realize is that he can take care of himself, and he knows how to get help if he needs it, and . . . now this is what I've been thinking in the back of my mind . . . no one is out to get him! I'm not foolish enough to think that everyone is nice and has the best intentions to everyone around them, but the vast majority of people are just regular old folks like we are. They won't see the boy that I see; they'll see a clean-cut, hard-working young man, a co-worker. Yes, I see the young man. But I don't think I'll ever quite lose sight of that little boy. Even when he's an old man.