Letting Go

I watched the woodpecker stay and stay and stay at the knothole, tending the young. It doesn't go inside, but tends them from the outside, clinging to the bark.The young ones must be too big now for the parent to be inside with them.

And so I have to let go, let go of my graduating-from-college son's daily life. I don't know when he wakes, sleeps, what he eats or what he does with his day. I know only of the results he produces,and but part of them.

He has grown too big for me to inhabit his same space.

The year we began to launch him was the year that my father died. A six-week period lay between these two letting go's. It happened I could no longer inhabit my father's space. He could no longer inhabit my space, which we all recognized with great sorrow.

He let go of life. I let go of his life.

There were unexpected freedoms that came. Now family gatherings were determined by me and my generation. No more need to accommodate what the elders could or could not do, or preferred or preferred not to do. We were left free to shape things by our own imaginations. And my generation were the ones to let the younger generation choose, within the bounds that we now determined.

Which eventually I will have to let go of.

But not yet.

With things to let go of, Jeannie