The Feathers
I was flipping through a random catalog the other day, while riding in the car with my husband. In there, I spotted a silver necklace. The charm on the chain was two half spheres lying one on top of the another. When the top half of the sphere is lifted you can then see little- robin egg blue- beads inside. You had the option to order up to four beads which represents the "birds" in your "nest". I said to my husband, "OH! I need one of these with two little birds in the nest!" He sweetly replied, "Hunny, we don't have any birds left in our nest, so we will have to get you the empty one". Sadly, he was right. Or, almost.
Raising my boys, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this day would come. After all, I had spent many hours teaching them how to become men. How to handle money. How to be great husbands. I taught them about character and integrity. I taught them about Jesus. I told them how I pray that one day they would be godly men, and the spiritual heads of their families. I told them how I have also been praying for their wives since the day they were born. I had been preparing them for leaving from the start. Making them ready to make wise choices. To stand on their own. To fly with great, strong wings. Somehow though, the reality of them actually leaving, never really took hold. In all my preparations in getting them ready, I forgot to prepare myself.
We had our first bird flying in 2011. Adam went off to college three hours away. At that time I was thinking this is as bad a separation
Matthew, our second bird, has just reached the edge of the nest. His talons grip tightly, his wings spread wide, as he pears over the edge to the great expanse below. Any moment now... he will go. He will graduate from high school in less than a month, then within a few short weeks, off to college he will go as well. One would think that my being toughened up from the first bird flying so far away, would soften the blow of the younger one leaving. It hasn't. I am no more ready for this flight than I was with the first. The heartache is just as real.
So, in these moments as I work on letting go, I look around our home. There I see a pair of well worn, flight deck- naval boots, where a pair of little red rubber "fireman" boots once stood. I see a batman costume in a frame on the wall, that my three year old wore for an entire year. There are guitars, and football equipment, and hunting gear, where Tonka trucks, Legos and Batman toys once laid. There are stop signs, and posters and concert memorabilia pinned to the walls of their bedrooms, telling the tale of things they like best. There is a water color painting in the shape of a fishbowl, on my refrigerator, painted by the hand of my little boy. The colors so faded by time that you can barely make out the masterpiece. There is a metallic "Welcome Home" patriotic balloon still partially inflated, floating and bobbing when a breeze catches it. There is a cap and gown on the back of a chair, freshly ironed and waiting to be worn. There are photos in frames of little chubby cheeked toddlers getting into all sorts of mischief. There is evidence everywhere that two little boys were raised in this home. And all I can do is look. Just look. And remember. Maybe, one day, I will be strong enough to take down the posters, or box up the vinyl record collection. Maybe, one day, I will put away the little Batman toy on my dresser that was so loved we had to keep coloring the hair back on with Sharpie markers. Maybe, one day, I will pick up the matchbox car that has laid out under the old maple tree for as long as I can remember. Maybe, one day, when it doesn't hurt quite so bad, I will be ready to clean the nest. Sweep away the old, and make way for the new empty nest. But, not quite yet. I am not quite ready.
Right now, I just don't know how I would face another day without seeing
The Feathers, my two little birds left behind.
Comments
Post a Comment