I wrote this for my son when he graduated high school and was preparing to head to university.
Dear Son –
When you were a toddler and you wanted a cookie, you tugged at my pant leg and looked up at me with those baby blue eyes I fell in love with instantly, and I gave it to you.
When you were a teenager and you wanted the latest gadget, and the batting of the blue eyes didn’t work as well as it used to, so you resorted to an intense campaign of “Please, Mom”‘s until I gave in.
All of your life, when you have wanted something I have been there, to prod and nudge and to help you achieve it. But now, things must change.
You are an adult now, no longer on the cusp, but walking in man sized shoes, and chasing man-sized dreams. I could, in all actuality, still prod and nudge you, but I’ve come to realize that by doing so I am denying you one of life’s most valuable lessons — self discipline.
I suppose, in my defense, I thought that somehow if I created the path for you, and made it easier for you to walk down it, that it was helping you, but I realize now, that was the wrong thing to do. I must let you forge your own path, at your own pace, and along the way you must face both the consequences of your mistakes and the triumphs of your victories.
You have to want, what you want, bad enough to move mountains to get it. I can only move the mountains I face, and not yours.
And so I step back, and watch you with pride and a little trepidation as you set out. Do I know where I’d like you to go with your life? Sure. But are your dreams the same as mine? Probably not, and that’ s they way it should be. I love you beyond all measure, enough to let you falter along your own path. I love you enough to let you fly, and enough to allow you to stumble from time to time. Remember, there are no mistakes, only lessons and you will do just fine. I look forward to seeing where you go, to visit and celebrate with you when you achieve your wildest dreams.
I love you, infinitely.
Mom
Dear Son –
When you were a toddler and you wanted a cookie, you tugged at my pant leg and looked up at me with those baby blue eyes I fell in love with instantly, and I gave it to you.
When you were a teenager and you wanted the latest gadget, and the batting of the blue eyes didn’t work as well as it used to, so you resorted to an intense campaign of “Please, Mom”‘s until I gave in.
All of your life, when you have wanted something I have been there, to prod and nudge and to help you achieve it. But now, things must change.
You are an adult now, no longer on the cusp, but walking in man sized shoes, and chasing man-sized dreams. I could, in all actuality, still prod and nudge you, but I’ve come to realize that by doing so I am denying you one of life’s most valuable lessons — self discipline.
I suppose, in my defense, I thought that somehow if I created the path for you, and made it easier for you to walk down it, that it was helping you, but I realize now, that was the wrong thing to do. I must let you forge your own path, at your own pace, and along the way you must face both the consequences of your mistakes and the triumphs of your victories.
You have to want, what you want, bad enough to move mountains to get it. I can only move the mountains I face, and not yours.
And so I step back, and watch you with pride and a little trepidation as you set out. Do I know where I’d like you to go with your life? Sure. But are your dreams the same as mine? Probably not, and that’ s they way it should be. I love you beyond all measure, enough to let you falter along your own path. I love you enough to let you fly, and enough to allow you to stumble from time to time. Remember, there are no mistakes, only lessons and you will do just fine. I look forward to seeing where you go, to visit and celebrate with you when you achieve your wildest dreams.
I love you, infinitely.
Mom
RSS Feed
