My Oldest...

(Don't ask me why his shirt was so wet!)

I have been thinking about this post for awhile. Tim II wants to join the military. Seems like a simple sentence to write, but probably one of the more difficult ones I have ever written. I never, ever saw him as a kid who would join the military. Don't get me wrong... I respect our military. I have several family members and a few friends that are or were in the military. It is not that I don't think a great deal of them. I just never thought about MY SON joining the military. He is 19 and trying to figure out who he is going to be. I have been so busy taking care of Savannah and Sebastian the last 3 years, that it seems that Tim II just grew up without my permission. Tim II says he wants to be an EMT/Medic. He wants to get training for this. Part of me wants him to just take the courses here and go that route. Part of me suspects a 4 month course in EMT training is just not what you make a career out of. He looked into the volunteer fire department (and was accepted) to get training there. I was pleased and thought that might be the way. Then he came home with the news he really wanted to just join the military. Uggghhhh!!! So, over the last month or so, I have been thinking on this a lot. Somehow my brain latched on to a memory of him riding his bike to school for the first time. He was 7 and in 1st grade. The school was not far by any means. He begged all year to ride his bike. I kept telling him he was too young. Finally at the very end of the school year, I agreed to let him ride with our neighbor kids, Adam and Amber. Amber was several years older than him and I knew she would keep an eye on him. The night before he was going to ride his bike to school, I was so worried. I wanted to tell him that I had changed my mind. My stomach was in knots. I kept seeing him get hit by a car or getting taken by somebody or an alien coming out of the sky to scoop him up. I was a wreck. The next morning came and he got ready for school so quickly. He got his helmet on and was ready to dart out the door. I made him stop so I could snap a picture. I needed to record this astounding event. I was, after all, letting my only child - my little boy - the love of my life - ride his bike to school. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I held my breathe and I let him go. I let him do it and he was fine. He was happy and growing up. So, I have been thinking about that a lot this month. I don't want my son to go away. I want him to live close to me always. I want him to come over for chicken Parmesan. I want him to be there for Sebastian and Savannah's birthdays. I want him to hang out with me the next time I may find myself in a hospital because my kids banged themselves up again - cheering me on and letting me know it will be okay. I want him to be in my daily life. My heart aches that he will leave me someday. I fear he won't come back. That he will meet some wonderful young lady that has family is Arizona or Seattle or some very far away place. He will call me and say he is in love and moving there. My heart will break. I have been his momma since I was 16 years old. I went from a child to having a child. I have spent the last 20 years trying to be the best mom I could be. Now, I am just supposed to let him go. Just like when he was 7 and wanted to ride his bike to school. Only this time, the tears have been coming and I am trying really hard to be supportive. I am just going to have to hold my breathe and let him go.