Dear Son,
I’m so proud of you this week as you’ve started your 2nd year of college, living in your own place with friends. I know it’s going to be an amazing experience for you.
I was quite worried when we left you in your new house, because I wasn’t sure if I had fully prepared you, particularly in the area of cooking and kitchen prep.
I’m not sure why, perhaps I was more focused on getting you to clean your room all these years. (which I’m not sure I was successful at either…) So, I took you shopping on moving day and gave you ideas for easy meals while trying to hold back my tears. I filled your fridge with easy prep food that I hoped you’d learn to make. Then, I stocked your freezer with the baked goods I’d prepared for you with a mother’s love earlier that week.
I hugged you good-bye through my tears and told you to call me if you needed any help in the kitchen and I would be there for you. I had a restless sleep that night, tossing and turning. Legitimately concerned for you, because you like food. And I wondered if you’d be able to turn any of those items into an edible meal.
Maybe you’d just eat chips for the whole year.
Or learn 48 ways to make Kraft Dinner.
My dreams were full of angst and worry.
But I had to have faith in you.
I believed in you.
If what everyone told me was right, you’d be fine.
The next day, I saw a post on Instagram that made my heart leap. There you were, making pasta for the first time. I almost called you to see if I could help, but I thought that I needed to let you soar on your own. Soon, a lovely picture followed of a beautifully set table, with napkins and plates and an impressive dish of pasta.
You did it.
You were going to be ok.
I was basking in pride at your accomplishment.
Then, your father sauntered upstairs.
He said a phrase that pierced straight through my heart. I don’t want to assume he was being smug (but let’s assume he was.)
“Noah called me for some help to make dinner.”
Now maybe I was already emotional from leaving you at school, and a crazy long day of moving and driving, and the other general stresses of life. But those words, sent me crying into my pillow for 30 minutes.
Deep sobs, repeating the phrase, “No one needs me for anything. I’m useless.”
(In hindsight, perhaps a little over-dramatic.)
