When it is time, the child leaves home, ready for her own life on her own feet, to try her wings and to soar. That is when the mother learns how to become herself, if she has not already done that work. She can begin the work, and decide to be okay with what that work brings, or she can suffer and sink into loneliness. I decided to be okay with it.
This is my time with myself, my true croning as I survey my empty nest. I had a party ten years ago, when I turned fifty, claiming the end of my mother phase and embracing my life as a single woman. Eleven years later, it is time for reassessment, for evaluation, and for redirection.
We never complete our reinvention of ourselves, whether we continue to clone the old self, or dare to grow a new image and experience being a beginner again. It helps to be okay with the choices we make. It helps to be okay with letting the discomfort of change flow through, allowing it to pass and not holding on to it.
I feel as though I have lost a best friend, even though she is only a couple thousand miles away, not even as far as some of my friends. It’s not like I can’t call her one the phone any time, but that is hanging on, dragging her down, tying a string to her foot like some junebug.
It’s time for me to let go, and to find my own new path.
I’ve decided to be okay with how things are, and I remind myself when those whiny feelings of abandonment and loss crawl across my awareness. I see that I’m not taking some actions that might need taking, but I’m okay with that, for the moment, as I am working on myself.
I too have wings to spread, and there’s still some soaring left in this old bird.