My Son, the Skywalker

In the end, you have to let go
and trust your own instincts, and theirs.
He was confident he could,
and I was confident he’d manage, but could I
bear to watch my baby,
only ten years old,
up there
above me,
striding through the sky?

On his face, and in his movements I saw
and self-control.

But, between the trees, above me
I saw
fear, and I saw
mastery of fear.
Above it all, in my son,
I saw
and the strength to carry on.

Sometimes, as a parent, you get those lightbulb moments when you realise both you and your child have crossed a threshold: they are growing up, and they have got to a new stage of life, with your help. You loose them from your apron strings a little, and see that they are able to manage so much on their own. And you heart just swells with gratitude and pride.

32 thoughts on “My Son, the Skywalker

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  1. And my heart swelled too Ingrid … your wonderfully penned story brought back so many lovely memories from my youth and the fantastic relationship I enjoyed with my mother … πŸ€—πŸ˜

  2. what a beautiful poem so heartfelt and true every word! What an amazing mom you are and he is lucky to have you to allow him to pull away from his apron strings and grow wings. πŸ¦‹

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