Navigating the river called
parenting isn’t easy. When you were young, we laughed as we splashed in the
babbling brook of life. We explored the shallows, marveled at the iridescent
minnows, turned over rocks to find red salamanders, constantly curious and awed
by our discoveries. I paddled through the current, steering you this way or
that, always going in the direction I thought was best.
Time passed, and your urge to
test your paddling skills grew… so, for a short while, we shared in the chore.
Rains came, and the river widened and deepened. Storms billowed in the clouds
overhead, rousing a choppy current that felt scary, even dangerous. The sun
rose and calm returned. Such is life on the river.
I slowly came to the
realization that it was time to step out of the canoe, hand over the paddle,
allow you to navigate your own way. In that instant, the river’s name changed
to Life, and it became yours. Sometimes, watching from the shoreline is
excruciating. It is during those moments I force myself to remember that I did
my very best during our together years to teach you when to battle the current,
when to drift with it, and, if need be, how to swim. Most times, though, I am
astonished by your strong, confident strokes, your keen sense of piloting.
You are on the right course,
of this I am certain. I am confident in your ability to judge the ebb and flow
of Life. I am sure you know your vessel, the strength of its keel, the weight
of its anchor, the location of its grab rails, the cut of its wake. You’ve got
this, come sunshine or squall.
I will try to relax, but I
can’t promise to do so. I’m a parent, remember. And I love you. If you should
ever need me, I am here. But in my heart, I know you have your bearing. I know
you will find your flow and do well on this journey.
