I Can’t Stand This Thought.
First, I think my life is going to end. Dylan is going to college – my little baby is leaving home – and I think, I can’t survive this. And I picture him two feet high and toddling toward me, running at full speed in his wobbly way, with that huge smile on his face as he knocks me over with his immense hug.
No, I absolutely will not survive his leaving.
Just as I begin to feel sad, I remember: Dylan needs to go. He needs to learn and grow – to do and feel and be. He needs to be himself, without us, without a fallback, without turning to his parents for every tiny decision. He needs to become responsible, healthy, and adult – not just in age, but in temperament.
But I can’t stand this thought; it is too much to bear. I want the baby back. I want to brush that mop of unruly red hair, put Dylan in tiny moccasins and a Youth XS tie-dye, and take him to the petting zoo to feed the goats.
Then this thought is too much to bear: Dylan is too old for petting zoos.
I know better! Dylan still loves petting zoos. He thinks goats are great. And he will go with me, every year, to feed the goats at our local Halloween stomping grounds.
But this year, he won’t be home for Halloween. Shane and I will feed the goats without Dylan for the first time in 15 years.
My only redeeming thought is this: Shane is still here. I get to be with Shane, to spend time with him, to treat Shane in the special way I treated Dylan before Shane was born.
Shane gets three years now; Dylan got three years then.
But these three years won’t be spent doing finger-painting or collecting acorns or riding tricycles. No, Shane is a bit too old for the things I did with Dylan during his special time.
Instead, Shane and I will watch movies, play board games, and sit on our respective computers while he plays video games and I plan our upcoming travel. Shane and I will go and visit colleges.
In three lightning-quick years, Shane will be leaving home, too. And that is the last thought I have before I stop thinking altogether.