What To Do When Your Son Flies Away

Minutes before, he was sitting there in the car.

I could hear his voice

We walked together

across the grass

He was somehow still under my wing

I asked him if he was scared

But it was me who was frightened

Fearful of the wind, of the heights and of change

In a moment he lifted off and was gone

Soaring with the wind and closer to the sun

And me still small and standing upon the soil.

I remember Rumi’s words: love him as the archer loves the arrow, even as it flies from the bow

There is something in this for me

I must let my son be my teacher

I must learn to let go of the fear that I have cultivated, of the wind and the heights and the change

I must learn to be like him and rise closer to the sun