I blubbered this morning sitting in my car at a shopping centre carpark (tragic huh?). Don't worry I didn't faint again. I cried not because I was sad but because I was happy. Bittersweet happiness though, because it may mean my apron strings are being cut.
I was on the phone to my eighteen-year-old son, Joel. He was in Darwin trying out for the Northern Territory Fire and Rescue Service. He'd just rung to say he passed the physical exam. This is no easy feat. In 35 degree heat he had to kit up in full heavy fire gear and lug hoses and other weights (such as a dummy) around an obstacle course and do it under a set time.
I had no doubt that he could do it, after all he is a personal trainer, rugby league player and very fit. So why did I cry? I think it was the sound of his voice. It's not just any voice. It's my son's and he's thousands of kilometres away all by himself.
That deep voice used to be soft and sweet when he was a little boy (accept for when he was yelling at his little brother but hey let's forgive that). I'd know his voice anywhere. It's rich caring tone. It's unique Joel texture.
Anyway back to his phone call. He was so excited and the experience had been priceless. I could imagine him grinning broadly as he spoke. I knew his dark blue eyes would be crinkled and bright. I was relieved that he'd already made friends and again not really surprised. His tone conveyed his admiration of the course trainer (ex-army personal trainer) and he was obviously proud of himself for what he had accomplished. So I kept the tears at bay as I listened to his enthusiasm.
I said, "I'm so proud of you, Joel. I knew you could do it." My voice didn't even waver.
"Thanks, Mum," he said in his usual humble way.
We said our good byes and I clicked shut my phone, then I cried. They were only little tears and not for long. They were lovely tears really. They were proud tears that kinda made me feel good.
Funny how tears do that sometimes.
Joel was following a dream to be a firefighter. Even if it means moving interstate he'll take any position offered. He could be in Humpty Doo or Alice Springs and that's a long way from me and his family and friends. I'd miss him but on the upside it's his dream and his life.
He reminds me again and again how setting goals helps you to achieve them. So I'm setting a goal for myself. Stop procrastinating about sending 'Finding Tarzan' to more publishers. Get it published. Wish me luck.
Oh, and if your kids are following their dreams away from you I suggest that you set them free. Yes that old saying rings true. Not only will they be stronger for it so will you. That's not to say you won't shed a few tears on the way either.
No comments:
Post a Comment