On the eve of eighteen....eighteen years ago, I waited for him. He was a promise, a prayer, perfection. He came into the world with ten fingers, ten toes, bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks; everything that makes a newborn a miracle.
There was so much promise in the beginning. He was everything I hoped he would be. There was no cause for alarm, no sign of what as to come. I consider how nice it would be to go back and enjoy that peace. Soak in what I didn't know I should treasure.
Someone pushed fast forward and suddenly here we are.
On the eve of eighteen is a strange place to be, a purgatory of sorts. For so long, all that mattered was getting him to commencement. Giving him the opportunity to walk with his peers, the kids that grew up with him. Most of the time, I didn't think much beyond that. I didn't think about what crossing that stage really meant for his friends...for him.
It's the eve of eighteen; suddenly I'm faced with a reality that breaks my heart.
He isn't going to college.
He won't drive a car.
He can't manage his life independently.
While others are stressed over SAT scores and college applications, I feel very isolated.
Eighteen years ago, I could bond with new mothers over breastfeeding, sleepless nights, and mylicon drops. I understood I would manage, because I had comrades. I wasn't navigating foreign territory alone. Ultimately, I did manage. Infancy was overall a cheerful time. I can still smell the newness of it all...I was taken with him. Now, we are far from the norm. The world lay ahead of him in a very different version. It's colored with promise and darkened with unknown.
On the eve of eighteen, I am still taken with him. He doesn't talk back, break curfew, or shy away from affection. He has a genuine heart and a gentle spirit. I will do for him what I always have done. Be his advocate, his voice, his support. I'll take his hand and we'll follow this journey hoping we can conquer the future obstacles we have yet to see...
