1.5 Decades

My son turns fifteen tomorrow.  I find this to be amazing.  A handful of a baby has turned into a young man who already looks old enough to be seated in a bar.  The kid who popped wheelies on his bike until he flew over the handlebars will soon be learning to drive.

I remember what kind of kid I was at fifteen.  I am so, so, so grateful my son is, thus far, quite different.

I do have the odd fluttering of terror now and then.  Part of me is in a panic: I have only three years left to teach him everything he needs to know!  A second part of me names the first part ridiculous.  I know I didn't learn a damn thing from my parents between the ages of thirteen and twenty-three, because those were the years in which I already knew everything.  My time to teach him is already past, really.  The years ahead are more about clarification of lessons learned, I suppose.

Delight is there as well.  I'm excited to see what my son will do with his life, and every year is an unfolding of something new.  The certainty with which he once spoke of his career choices has given way to indecision as he learns more about the vast options before him.  I honestly have no idea what he will settle on.

There is also an undercurrent of anticipation on my part.  When I found out I was pregnant, I made a decision to live my life as consecutive stages rather than concurrent ones.  When Dev no longer needs a fulltime mom, that life stage of mine will close.  I'll have as much freedom as he in choosing what will come next.

Fifteen years old, my child shall be.  He has faced the last year with grace, strength, and resiliency.  He is the most awesome young man I know.