Thursday, February 21, 2019

Put in my place

Marcel has managed to secure himself a post-grad job in London/Singapore/Manhattan with an investment bank. It's only a two year contract, but he figures that will be enough to give him a taste and some experience of that sector so at the end, he can choose to apply to stay, move to a competitor, or run for the hills screaming that that wasn't for him. He starts in London in September.

He was discussing the fact that if he saves well, he could even decide to do some sort of post-grad or PhD after his two years, as he'd have the financial backing. Excited by all these possibilities, I made the mistake of saying out loud that he'd be welcome to stay with us while he was studying if that was any help. I hadn't really thought about it, I just mentioned it, because he is still my little boy after all. But as I said it I saw it in his eyes even before he let me down gently. There was a mixed look almost of pity and puzzlement, that I should even have thought it! 'Mum, I love you dearly and all but moving back to the gaff and living with the fam, seriously, at my age?'  

And then it hit me like a tonne of bricks. My wee boy grew up, so far up and away that he is a man now. He loves me, but he doesn't need me any more. He's self sufficient, both emotionally and financially. Parenting, when you do it right, means giving them the tools to make their own life, and the confidence to do so. Somehow, completely by fluke, I seem to have managed that. But how quickly did it happen? It's both wonderful and crushing in equal measures. My first little baby is unlikely to ever live with me again, unless ironically, I become so old and doddery, he takes me in!

One down, four to go...

The human life span really is immeasurably short, the further you get into it.

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