Broken Promises

My son broke a promise to me. He has no remorse for having done so and rubs it in my face everyday. In fact, he's doing so right now. It hurts my heart that he made the decision to go back on his word and just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes and builds a lump in my throat. As I type I want to throttle him for it, to force him to take it back and honor his solemn vow to me.

"What did he do that's so bad?" you may ask. I'll tell you what the little snot pocket did. He promised me that he would never leave me. Ever. His big greenish brown eyes stared into mine and he promised, with all his heart and in complete earnestness, that he would live with me for forever. And now he's planning how he's going to go to college, and leave me. He's trying to figure out how to get a job so that he can buy his own car, and leave me. He makes arrangements with his friends to pick him to go do stuff, and he leaves me. He's making decisions for himself, and leaves me behind. Do you see now how he broke his promise to me?

I know that he's supposed to do this. I know it's part of the process of raising children. It wasn't so hard when the oldest two left, and it doesn't tear me up that the youngest two will leave also. But they didn't promise me. They didn't hold up the inside of their elbow for me to kiss to seal the promise.

As I watch him grow and become a young gentleman, pride swells in me. But so does a bit of hurt that he's on the cusp of not being mine anymore. At least not in the same capacity he was. I don't want him to grow up; I want him to snuggle on my lap, run to me for owie kisses, and chase all manner of creepy-crawlies in little boy delight.

Part of me screams that it's not fair that this sweet child will become a sweet man and not live under my roof. But I know that it's right. So I'll shed tears (a whole bunch in fact) for the broken promise. And then I'll shed some more in pride for the man he's becoming because he decided to take it back.