Letting Go Requires More Strength than Holding On

I saw this canvas print at Bed, Bath & Beyond and it spoke to me. It was an impulse buy. A good one.

Because the wisdom herein has gotten me through a few narrow roads pocked with potholes and hairpin turns.

First, I love the implication of the yellow cape–the winds of change are blowing.

Second, the red on the horizon reminds me of a torched bridge. Sometimes you got to burn the mother down.

Third, the woman is missing a part of her hip.

Is that the part where a toddler used to cling?
Or is it her sexuality? Is a woman of a certain age no longer considered sexy or relevant?
Maybe it’s a part of her anatomy that the surgeons have cut out from her…
Or a career that used her all up and then sent her away less than whole (for me, that’s the burned bridge on the horizon, along with the ravages of cancer.)

Or maybe it’s just a nice picture of a woman on the beach who is looking forward to a new chapter in her life.

So this time of the year as you send your children off to school, or a freshman off to college where he will live for the first time out from underneath your roof, remember, the wisdom here:

It’s harder to let go than it is to hold on.

In that spirit, don’t be that guy from high school who lives life with his eyes in the rear- view mirror. The glory days weren’t all that glorious. And if you keep your eyes on the past, you’ll miss the roller coaster ride into the future.

And don’t be that mom who says, “I wish they could stay little forever.” Because they can, but only if they die. And I can’t think of anything harder to carry in your heart.

Last week, I dropped my youngest son off in Chicago, about 800 miles away from home, for his freshman year of college. I’m so excited for him.

But I’m excited for me, too.

My household will be a little quieter and less chaotic. I’ll get to see my hard work pay off when he comes home a little more mature and with a greater appreciation for his parents’ sacrifices on his behalf.

And I’m also looking forward to having a more adult-to-adult relationship with my shorty–who happens to be 6’5″ and, whom, I will always call Shorty. And he’s okay with that.

So as the kids drive off to college or high school or hop on the cheese-wagon for another year of school, take a deep breath, snap a few photos, and enjoy the ride.