Away

Yesterday afternoon we put Theo, age 7, on a plane to Phoenix to see his Grandma.

He had packed his bag and prepared himself mentally. He was excited and proud, but also scared.

He had his tag around his neck like Paddington, or a piece of luggage, in case he got lost. He pulled his rolling suitcase, filled with Harry Potter, a book about the Solar System, a pad to color, Aria, his favorite stuffed rabbit, swim trunks and a few clothes.

Before we let him out onto the tarmac to climb onto the plane, a guy from Southwest came over.

"Do you know who is going to meet you on the other end?" he asked.

"My aunt," answered the first girl.

"Who?" asked Theo.

But he knew. I watched him roll his suitcase out (he is still small enough to fit inside in a pinch.) I watched the Southwest stewardess try to help him carry his bag up the stairs, and I watched him insist that he could do it himself, and then he struggled to lug the big bag up to the door of the plane.

We told him he could order a coke on the plane if he wanted. We wouldn't know, or care. He was on his own, making his own decisions. Later he told us he got a Pepsi. He was gleeful.

Jonathan's mother told us that on the other end he almost collapsed with relief when he got off the plane and she was there, waiting for him. Apparently he thought he would just wander out through the airport to the curb, and hope that somehow she would find him.

Benji cried for 20 minutes after Theo left, and was quiet through dinner. To him, life is boring without Theo. We realized they have been apart only once, when Benji was too young to remember. They are truly inseparable. Benji kept asking how long til Theo got back. He is still asking, and it has not yet been 24 hours.

What complex emotions it all brings up.

Jonathan said last week, "This is good. It is the first step towards independence."

Independence! He is only seven! Let's not rush things!!! I am not ready for him to be independent. I want him to snuggle and believe that Mama can still make the world alright.

I watch other parents grappling with this point in childhood. It is so tempting to keep children close, to not encourage freedom, to not push them just a little to get them empowered and freer, partially of you. It feels so nice to be so adored and so needed. It gives me such purpose. This is the beginning of taking that need and that purpose, for me, away.

And yet, I feel there is something unfair to the child when the parent holds on for too long. Something just a little unhealthy in encouraging the children to hold on perhaps longer than they need. In rewarding them, in subtle ways, for reaching out for you and being weak, and taking them back to your breast and holding them and not pushing them out into the world to fend for themselves just a little, so they can practice and then fly back like little birds for reassurance.

I was so proud as I watched him lug his suitcase up by himself, like a little man, and felt such tenderness, but also pride, to know he tried so hard not to let on how scared and worried he really was.

Today we spoke. I asked him if he missed us a lot or a little (not at all was not even an option). "A little," he said, I could tell mostly to not hurt my feelings.

It is his first step away, and how bittersweet it is.

On the other hand, how deliciously quiet the house is. No arguing over magnatiles. No collisions of razor scooters. No injuries caused by gunfights or pillowfights or light sabers in the eye. One child is so easy, so calm, so manageable!

I wouldn't trade two for one in a million years. When Benji arrived our family felt complete.

But going back to one makes me realize what a difference that extra child makes. One child is practically like being alone as a couple again. Two do take more energy than one. And it is not just the activities. It is a state of being and activity elevated to a different magnitude.

These are my thoughts, while my boy is away.

And of course, I cannot wait until he returns.

What about you? Has your child gone away? Are you ready?

Is it sweet? Or bitter?