On His Own

Yesterday, we dropped off our son at camp.

He's 10.

He'll be gone for a week.

Ten years ago, he entered the world naked and needy. He depended on us for all of his needs: sustenance, nurturance, entertainment, and otherwise. Now he needs us when it suits him. Less than ten years from now, he'll need us just for the tuition. Otherwise, he'll be independent--living by himself or with friends, responsible for his own schedule, food, transportation, social life...

This week, he's trying out some of that independence. And he's not afraid of it. He embraces it. Always an engaging person, he's fun, friendly, enterprising, not afraid of much. He's not shy, but he can show restraint. He recognizes when he's presented with an opportunity to show what he can do, to experience a new adventure, to meet new people
-- and instead of ignoring it, he embraces that opportunity wholeheartedly.

When I was his age, I was not that brave. Come to think of it, when I was twice his age, I was not that brave.

He's in his "tween" stage, and he's very verbal, and he and I can both stubbornly lock horns at times. And because in many ways he's always been ahead of his years, sometimes I forget his true age. Sometimes I expect too much. But I'm also awed by the person he is--his confidence, his independence, his intelligence, his innate comfort with other people, his sense of adventure, his creativity, his ability to communicate with anyone, anytime. These qualities were present from the minute he was born. We could just tell he was different from us in many wonderful ways. He somehow took the qualities that he inherited from us and that were fused into him, and then tweaked them to create his own sense of self. It's amazing to see these lifelong qualities becoming more clearly defined as he ages. I've learned much from parenting him.

So now he's gone for a week, staying in a cabin in the woods with 3 friends and more strangers. (He'd be mortified, but to loosely quote from my daughters' Barbie movie, "strangers are just friends he hasn't met yet!") This week, he doesn't need us. Not even to help him organize his belongings and make up his bed. He insisted he could handle those tasks by himself and adamantly, but politely, refused help. So we did the only things we could do, and the only things he needed us to do: we kissed him, hugged him, wished him a great time, and waved good-bye.

It's strange to have my child gone, and not in the care of another relative. But this is what we've been working toward: the confidence to go his own way independently.

Have a great time, my son. I'll be here for you when you're ready to come home.