Empty Car

My car is empty. No longer do I have to scrawl excuses for being absent on hastily ripped out notebook pages or hurriedly sign a consent form for a school trip or scour through my wallet looking for exact change for the sno-cone, ice-cream, or hot dog sale.

Gone are the days of finding out what happened in school or listen for the hundredth time that, this is not how Miss said to do it. I am not the main chauffeur anymore.  I have gladly relinquished my role as soccer mom.

The car is now empty.  I miss the days of my children fighting to sit in the front seat or answering my phone or handing me my lip gloss, comb, or lotion because everybody knows the final bit of dressing always took place in the car.

My two older children are now grown. I am not needed half as much. I often tell people that if you want to see how quickly time passes, observe children.  They grow so quickly and if you don’t savour and enjoy every age and stage, before you know it, they would sooner spend time with their friends than with you.  You become the person they now ask to borrow the car or chauffeur them out or fund their many pursuits.

They now have their own lives to lead, to make good and bad choices and deal with the consequences of those.  And as much as we want to shield them forever, we have to send them out there, it’s how they will grow and develop their own strength to conquer the world.