Cutting the Cord

I vividly remember the day my twin sons were born.  I know how I felt...both the joy and the pain.  I can clearly recall the events of the entire day, from the moment my water broke to the moment I first held each of them in my arms.  One thing I don't remember, however, is the cutting of the cord. I mean, I remember the doctor telling me it was happening, but I don't remember how it felt.  For me, it was utterly painless and held no long-term significance.  What I didn't realize then is that it wasn't the literal cords that would be tough to cut.

This year as been one of great stretching and testing...and cord cutting.  As my eldest twin got engaged, married and announced he and his wife are expecting, I felt the deep stabbing pain of having to let go before I was ready.  With precision, he sliced his way into adulthood with seemingly fearless abandon.  He didn't ask for permission, and he didn't ask for help.  He just took the leap and dove right into a life all his own.  When he cut the cord, it may not have been the painless procedure the doctor had performed when he was a newborn, but it certainly was quick.

While I wasn't thrilled about it in the moment, now I'm convinced his way was ultimately the best way to do it.  I say that because now I am faced with the opposite end of the spectrum with Son #2.  

Son #2 has no interest in having his cord cut.  He is seemingly content to stay in some kind of suspended state of adolescence.  He doesn't have any urgency about growing up and getting on with his adult life.  He is hanging on with all his might while I saw at the cord with the dull butter knife that is motherly nagging.

It isn't that he doesn't have aspiration of a grown up life.  He is, in fact, engaged to be married and in the beginning stages of planning to make a life with his fiance.  What he isn't is realistic.  He wants to keep one foot in his youth while only stroking the edge of adulthood.  He is trying to find a way to hang on to the carefree, worry free, trouble free life he has enjoyed to this point while at the same time trying to muster the courage to step off the edge of the cliff that real life can be.  

I understand his apprehension.  After all, life is a complicated game we all play where sometimes we win and sometimes we lose...and the rules are always changing...and the stakes keep going up.  But it's also an exciting, whirlwind ride where we find love, happiness and our passion.  Being out on our own is when we go from crawling to walking and then hopefully to running the race like a champion.  It's when we discover who we really are and what's really important in life.

When we're young, the whole world is contained within the walls of our parents' house, the halls of our high school and the fences around playgrounds and ball fields...and all those places are wonderful.  But when we step outside of that, we are introduced to the whole wide world.  We find endless possibilities.  We discover limitless potential.  We are opened up to brand new opportunities we never even knew existed.  And we realize, maybe for the first time, those things were always there...somewhere inside us, hidden beneath the baby fat of childhood.  

So as my son struggles to strap on his parachute and prepare for the flight of his life, I firmly and steadily push him toward the door.  Not because I don't love him or don't want him to stay here with his father and I, but because I do love him.  And because I love him, I want him to experience all this life has for him.  I want him to feel the thrill of being independent...the pride of accomplishment...the kind of contentment that comes from knowing one has earned what he has.  I want him to step out of the shadow of the boy and be the man I know he can be.  I want him, when this life is at it's end, to look back and be able to say he's lived it well...that he wouldn't change anything...and that it's been a wild and wonderful ride.

I love you Zachary.  Always have...always will.  Now jump!!