Emptying the Nest

Because my home office is adjacent to the driveway, the thunk, thunk, thunk sound of a dribbling basketball is sometimes an unwelcome distraction during my workday. But tonight, that sound is music to my ears and I’m actually dreading the silence when my boys stop playing for the evening.

You see, tomorrow is the day my oldest child packs up his car and heads 5.5 hours east to his first job as an electrical apprentice with Vulcan Materials. This isn’t a temporary move off to college where he’ll bring a basket of dirty laundry home on the weekends. This move away is the beginning of life as an adulting person and he’s actually no longer just down the road. No more pick up basketball games with his brother or trips to our favorite sushi restaurant because I didn’t feel like cooking. I’m proud and worried and excited and sad and all the things.

Tonight we took him to Top Golf in Birmingham as a send-off to celebrate this milestone. On the way back, I read excerpts from this blog outloud from when he was a blonde-headed four-year old and it punched me squarely in the feels. The sweet little boy moments of saying prayers by his bedside and spending hours questioning the cosmos made me tear up as I realize he’s hours away from spreading his wings to fly the coop.

All the ways I screwed up as a parent flood my mind and I realize that, if given the opportunity, I would turn back the clock and do so many things over again. But time is fickle and stubborn and I simply have to trust that his wise decisions will outweigh the poor ones as he meanders his way through the tricky path of adulthood.

For now, for these fleeting few moments, I’m going to lay here in my hammock and listen as the thunk, thunk, thunk and brotherly smack talk occupy this otherwise quiet, cricket-filled evening. I’ll soak it in and reflect on the comfort of knowing my chickens are safe in the nest enjoying each other’s company…at least for one more night.

Raising a child is a soul-stretching, faith-testing fete that can often bring you to your knees. But tonight, memories of two boys shooting each other with toy guns in the back yard while a golden retriever chased them around bring both happy and sad tears. All of the good and the challenging times melt together and I wish I could go back and hold him for the first time all over again.

And as that red Toyota Camry pulls out of the driveway tomorrow, I’ll try to rest in the knowledge that this phase of our job is complete. (As I secretly count the days until I can once again hear the thunks of a bright orange ball and brotherly banter outside my door.)

Godspeed, Daniel. I’m so very proud of you.