he types his essay
on heroes and anti-heroes
defining the noble, the ignoble
the brave, questing search
of the soul of a man
wrestling down, pinning
the argument of his
ideas
“read it,” he wants,
only half-way done
but in this letting go
of both our hands
he needs to trust his
argument, his support
the heart of his ideas
for now
until the roughness of it
is sketched in
the review wait
until further progress
frustrates independence growing
unused to hands-off processes that
stretches new-found
self-ownership and the evaluation
of it
by other minds and other hearts
who neither held his hands and nor let go
to walk, fall, and pull himself up
to try again until
he got it
on his own
like bicycle riding
solo
for the first time
with the training wheels of
independence
removed
revealing the sheer terror
of hands-off
for both of us
until his feet pressed into the pedals
his hands wrapped control around
handle bars
his inside boy balanced his outside boy
and he flew down the side walk
heart jumping, I stood
at the letting-go point
hands gripped at my side
words held back so they
wouldn’t get in the way
as he wobbled, teetering
from failure to success
in the newness of confidence
emerging
from owning the journey
two-wheeled independence
today he writes,
and I find busyness
in a letting-go moment
hands gripping the dish clothe,
wiping the counter
words held back so they won’t
get in the way
of his words, his ideas
of heroes and anti-heroes,
examples and arguments
of an essay written
comparing the souls of men
this slow removal
of the training wheels of
Independence
of a mama’s hands
letting go
to allow him to own
his success, his failures
his picking himself up to try
again
and in that picking up gain
more than success
is
courage-soaked mother
who loves enough
to let go
Won’t you settle in, join me with a cup of spiced ginger plum tea, join me with Karen at Tuesdays at Ten? The writing prompt is . . . Letting go.
Beautiful!
awesome post.
Isn’t letting go one of the hardest tasks for a parent? Sigh. Learning to do it is wonderful though. I’m still learning.
Helping older ones write papers, drive away, ride off to do their jobs, and grow up is a perfect example of letting go, huh? Thanks for this glimpse into yoru family.
Jennifer Dougan
http://www.jenniferdougan,com
A sacred moment, Maryleigh. Beautifully penned.
I always look forward to see you and your situations that you share. Never can ignore you, BTW. I always smile when I “see” you. Bless you…
lovely words, beautifully expressed! 🙂
Reading your words makes me see better the inner struggle my own mother must have felt when raising us.
i love this:) reminds me of the years when my girls were home but extends to the years now as they are grown. i still need to hold back my words unless they are asked for…and often they are. great words on letting go.
Love this beautiful mama’s heart poem, MaryLeigh. Hugs
Yes, it’s hard to let go. We dropped our oldest off at college two years ago on the other side of the country. As we drove away, I could barely breathe. All that came were tears, sobbing and a quiet van with hubby driving and siblings in the back. Definitely ranks up there as one of my toughest days ever. I get a lump in my throat just typing about it now.
thank you for these beautiful words.
Yes! There is something so difficult about letting go–maybe because we’re worried that it’s a test of OUR abilities, not theirs. If the stumble and fall, does it mean we failed as parents? (The answer is ‘No-it means they stumbled and fell and will learn from the journey).
It is so hard to let them go, isn’t it? Your poem is just beautiful. Thank you for sharing at Weekend Whispers.
I hear you. What a beautiful poem. Thank you, neighbor. Blessings to you and yours!
I can relate to your mother’s heart that pours out of this post. Beautiful:)
Letting go… never easy. We do so on many stages. Sometimes gradually, but the real test is the letting go that we have no control over. In my letting go moments, I have always found it to be true that there is a “getting back” involved. Beautiful post, dear friend.