The Pressure to Let Go

Written for the NaBloPoMo prompt:

"What are you currently feeling pressure to do that you don't particularly enjoy?"

 
  The holidays are over and whether I want to or not I feel the pressure to let go of those warm, fuzzy feelings. The Christmas tree is a mere memory and the decorations packed away till next year.  It is as if a booming voice is announcing “It’s time to return to your daily lives citizens.”   Am I ready?  No, I decidedly am not.  Do I have a choice?  No, I do not. 

     Tomorrow my husband will go back onto the road, Monday my kids will be going back to school, and if that isn’t bad enough my son, my baby, will be attending his first sleepover tomorrow night.  It is the first time we have been apart since his birth.  My heart feels heavy and even though I want more than anything for time to stand still, I know it will move forward.  I know I must let them all go.  It is time.  Not for forever, but just for a little while.  Time marches on and life moves forward and I will be forced to store those precious memories away into the deepest part of my heart.

     I don’t enjoy letting go of any of them but I know I must.  If I don’t let my husband go, how will we pay the bills?  The money will run out in a quick hurry.  If I don't let my children go back to school, I am depriving them of an education.  If I don’t let my son cultivate his friendships by attending his first sleepover, how can I expect him ever to celebrate his independence? 

        Some would call it the precursor of empty nest syndrome.  Some would say I simply don’t like being alone.  I do like my solitude.  It is when I write.  It is when I draw and create.  It is when I crank my music as loud as it can go and feel the beat in my soul as I type, as I draw, and as I clean house.  So I will let them go, knowing they will come back.  Time waits for no one.  Life is about changes.  Nothing stays the same.  Letting go is part of life.

The First Day

      It was his first day.  He was wearing new clothes, new shoes, and his brand new backpack was filled with brand new school supplies.  He was all clean and sparkly, utterly adorable, and brimming with anticipation.  Filled to the brim, the backpack must have been awful heavy on his small shoulders.  He was so excited for the adventure that kindergarten offered.  

       He didn’t notice my bittersweet mood.  Where had the time gone?  Could it be possible that my precious son had grown so much he was big enough to start school?  My heart clenched as he hugged and kissed me goodbye on his way out the door to catch the bus.  I told him to have a good day, to have fun at school, and with a heavy heart I let him go. 

        As I watched him walk out the door I thought about that precious armful he had once been and compared him to the fine young man he would one day be. I hoped the kids would be nice to him.  I hope he makes friends.  I hope he likes school!  “Please God, go with him.  Please, let the other kids be nice to him!” I silently begged.   He looked back and waved.  I bit my lip, swallowed the tears threatening to escape, smiled, and waved back.  There he goes, my little man off to discover and experience life…without me.

Written for the Write Tribe Wednesday prompt.  Photo courtesy of Morgue File.