{Photo by Kelly Carrick}

Tonight the house feels so still with a level of quiet only seen when my revenge bedtime, as some may call it, kicks in pushing past an acceptable hour in an attempt for peace.

Arlo, our golden retriever, was lazing on the couch, chin propped softly on a pillow and eyes likely closed for the night, or at least his first pre-bedtime nap. The only real noise is my husband, doing his level best at impersonating our Husqvarna chainsaw, which just happens to be one my all time favorite yard tools, so I suppose I call that a win. There was a distinct lack of chatter throughout. This is the time when my son, Calvin would normally, begrudgingly get off all devices and come walking in with his latest song recommendation, to share a random query as a conversation startup or to give me the latest tea from his friend group, which is always served piping hot. Tea is a term used to refer to gossip or inside information.

Now, not only am I a mother who delivered at an advanced maternal age, as those in the white coats call it. I have been around enough to know when someone is stalling for time. These stalls were noticeably elaborate and engaging. Sometimes continuing into the very next day and another day after that. A few nights ago the time-stretching went like this: If you were a flavor of ice cream, what flavor would you be?

We then launched head first into all the family’s pets, jumped to immediate family members and kept going all the way down the cousin road.

We argued the attributes of each potential subject and then when the right flavor was found it was akin to trying on Cinderella’s slipper, it just fit. If you asked me today which person was which flavor I’m not sure I’d be able to tell you. My short term memory is somewhat lacking and the game was done with such a level of fervor that I recall our shared excitement as much as anything.

Tonight there is no game, no stalling and the dog just repositioned his fluffy form into a final bedtime pose. You see, it's the week of Calvin’s first ever sleep away camp. It makes me chuckle, playing those words back in my head. When we sent Arlo to be trained that’s what I called it. The phrasing wasn’t coincidental, it was how I justified him being away from his family, because it was for the better.

If I strip it down inside of my head I realize the same is true now, just with much greater stakes. People close to me have asked how I am handling it, and I won’t say there hasn’t been a single tear shed. What I will say is that we are raising a confident and capable young person, one who can communicate his needs without constant help from the one who birthed him. He’s intelligent, charismatic, kind hearted and makes friends with ease.

Additionally, he makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I think I might pee my pants, many of us can unfortunately relate to that. I also hold those he is with in the absolute highest regard and that brings my heart peace, those facts allow me to put the tissue box down, at least temporarily.

I sometimes think how odd I must seem, reveling in the things he reaches for that sometimes take him further away from me. I should be quoting all the cliches, denying time’s hands to move even a minute. I knew I wasn’t birthing a baby to keep pint-sized and dependent forever, but instead witnessing the evolution of a fully functional human that would hopefully one day contribute to this great place we call home.

I have learned something and loved something from every evolutionary layer. So here’s to those layers and to the letting go we all do in our lives. May we all recognize that so much is still within our grasp.