Catching Dandelion Seeds

Last year, I watched my firstborn graduate from high school and immediately FLY into the real world in the most beautiful of ways. All of my fears about how many ways I failed her…all of my doubts of whether or not we had prepared her for what was to come…they all fell away, and I watched her proudly as she SOARED into great, BIG, new adventures. It was a sweet, surreal time for me as a mother.

But, I also continued with the busyness of life…I continued homeschooling a 5th grader and an 11th grader…managing two auto-immune diseases…turning our entire way of living/cooking basically upside down (we eat very clean/fresh/homemade now) to help my diseases…starting a new part-time job (that I adore!)…selling our home (after 15+ years) and moving to a new-to-us place. In short, life kept us busy…both in expected and unexpected ways.

But today…

I have another senior preparing to graduate this next school year…he’s already working full time and handling his dual enrollment college classes like a champ. He’s surprised me in so many ways with his responsibility. There were days that I feared he would never “get it”…that I’d always be standing over his shoulder reminding him of what he should do next. But in a blink, he grew up…

And now those feelings have shifted in ways I didn’t truly expect…

I wasn’t prepared for this stage of life. They don’t tell you how your heart feels torn in pieces – how you can be bursting with pride and joy for the children you’ve raised, while at the very same time, feel an ache so deep it catches your breath. No one warns you how it will feel to watch your children become everything you hoped they’d be: strong, smart, capable, independent. That’s the goal, after all – to raise them to SOAR…to FLY. But no one tells you that with that independence comes a quiet, aching space between you, one that wasn’t there before. And, it isn’t a bad space. It’s the space of growth and becoming. The space where they learn to truly spread their wings to fly – and where you learn to let go and let them.

This season, I have already found myself holding (or at least trying to hold) back tears at the most unexpected times. I linger a little longer at the doorway of their rooms, try even harder to memorize their laughter, their expressions, their moods. For years, I’ve collected memories like treasures in my pocket…and now I’m frantically trying to bottle up these last childhood moments as they scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind.

And all at the same time, I’m SO proud! So incredibly proud. These children who once held my hands to cross the street are now mapping out their next adventures and their futures. They are chasing dreams, stepping into challenges, and building a life for themselves that will eventually be beyond our front porch…and I get a front row seat to watch them!

And that’s the goal…it always has been. But no one tells you how hard it is to get there. The quieter house. The less chaotic family schedule. It all leaves behind a stillness you didn’t expect – and didn’t quite ask for.

This is the paradox of parenting in the later years: the immense joy of watching them spread their wings to fly and the “happy-sad” of watching them soar. So, I will continue “catching dandelion seeds” — light, fleeting, beautiful — knowing they were never meant to stay, but to soar. And still… I’ll be here, catching every single one.