Blood and salt
Standing in the sea today having realised once again that surfing is not something that lights me up or even interests me in the least unless I am watching my child find joy in the catching of waves, I began to download some information. From where? I have no idea. Maybe it was just from that place that big nature takes you, you know, when you are in the company of one of her expressions, one so big that it could obliterate you in the blink of an eye and not spare you or all of your bullshit a second thought. Surrounded by the cool water, the movement of the unrelenting tide and the sound of the breaking waves, I found a moment of something close to peace. But something that simultaneously felt sad, lonely, joyful, perhaps a little accomplished and a lot scared. Well, maybe scared is a little dramatic but I am now bitterly aware that I am standing on the threshold of yet another one of this sweet life’s transitions and that for the first time in a while I don’t know what to expect. I don’t mean this in a practical, tangible sense of the not knowing, because I do know roughly the outline of most likely circumstances for the coming years, it’s more a sense of not knowing who I will be without him as he is, here with me now.
For the first time in so many years, perhaps in my life, I feel happiness. Right now, in this role, in this dynamic as the single matriarch of my two human two dog household and I don’t want it to change. I don’t want to let go of the moments that fill me with joy, the simple moments as he pulls me in for another goodnight cuddle, still my little boy, the moments where I feel needed, and loved and like I have succeeded at something already so great and so beautiful. Some big parts of my life have sucked so bad and I have spent quite a lot of my short time here will a healthy baseline of misery and a behind closed doors tendency to vex and mope.
But for now I am happy. Almost delirious to have this time with him, to spend our cherished days together on beaches, on road trips, on the sofa curled up with the dogs watching goddamn Harry Potter and the order of the phoenix for the fifteenth fucking time how can anyone even stand that much Umbridge but I do, because he loves it.
His not so little hand still reaching for mine as we walk to the canoe club or the skate park or the St Michaels and all angels church gyms to battle their assigned defenders and replace them with ours in the hope of maxing out our 50 poke coins per day earn limit.
But I know that this shift has begun. He already journeys out on his own. And I am trying to be ready and ok with this and I’m really not there yet. The fears so overwhelming I have to battle the pocket monsters in my own internal gym to be able to wave him off without him knowing the rough terrain of my maternal landscape.
Standing in the sea today I watch him try and try and try to catch a wave. He does it, and then he doesn’t, and then he repeats the cycle of failure and success and I can see his joy and his frustration and I so badly want to be a big part of it all but I can feel that now is the time I have to take a step back. I begin to wade in his direction with the intention to offer him my help, to hold his board, to coach his emotions as his anger swells at yet another wipeout, and it is as though I am pushing into a newly established yet tentative boundary line. I can feel his need for independence, for me to just fuck off and let him get on with it, and for his desire to absorb the teachings of the village. And yes I know he doesn’t want me to fuck that far off but it it still a deep and visceral sting. When I notice he is crying from a run of failed pop ups and I instinctively gravitate towards our practiced routine of comfort and recovery I feel his energy resist, and instead he opens himself to the careful words of our kind instructor Erin who shares with him a brief account of her first time surf experiences and expertly manoeuvres him onto another wave with fresh enthusiasm.
As I walk clumsily away from this almost surreal interaction and back out into the deeper water it all becomes very clear. That he is not here for me. And my apprehension is that I have been relying on the opposite of that statement. That the reason I am so happy and content with life as I currently know it is only because of him and the way we are existing together in our little world right now and that when I let that go, when he moves more into the bigger expansion of his human experience that I won’t know who the hell I am any more. What will I have? What will be my purpose then? It’s really fucking scary. Scary of the dramatic variety.
And yet I know what it is. I am so attached it’s not even funny. All of the teachings, all of the practice, the meditations, the shapes, the books, the breaths they seem all forgotten and for nothing when I realise that I am so painfully attached to my life as it is that I can’t and sometimes won’t see it any other way.
‘Stop growing’ I tell him, ‘you will always be my baby man’ ‘my little shrimp’ and it’s all playful and soft and so bittersweet because as he soon moves into his next phase of school, and his teenage years I know that he will grow and change and become so independent of me that right now I can’t even write this without a burning in my throat and a sting in my eyes.
There’s this song I love by Michael Johnson called ‘Give me wings’, it goes like this…
He asked her, what gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true
I want to make you mine forever
There's nothing on this earth I would not do
She said, anything I've wanted
You have given willingly
So now there's only one more thing I need
If you love me, give me wings
And don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you love me, give me wings
He walked over to the window
He silently stared into space
Then he said, well I just want to protect you
'Cause this world is a dangerous place
She put her arms around him
She said, I know you mean well
But there are lessons I must learn for myself
So if you love me, give me wings
And don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
And you can trust me, so give me wings
She said, up above the clouds, you can see forever
And I know you and I can learn to fly together
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
And you can trust me, so give me wings
If you really love me
Give me wings
I have listened to this song on repeat for so many road trips as I tried to come to terms with various other lettings goes but this is the first time I have considered the gravity of its meaning in this honoured role as the mother. This gateway always seemed so far off that I have never considered what it would be like to stand here on my own, heart aching, face smiling, hand waving, as he takes those giant tiny steps to investigate what is out there beyond the castle walls. And I don’t like it. But I love it at the same time. This is not just an opportunity for him to grow but also for me to move into something new, to find another piece of the puzzle of my own independence and maybe find out a little bit more about who the fuck I am. I hope that I have done enough, I hope that I still have something to offer, I hope that whoever I am next has something new and valuable to share with him and whoever he becomes. For now though, I choke back tears, and scroll through baby pictures on my phone and take a breath. And then another. Can you tell I got my period today, as I stood in the sea actually, waves of salt, and tears and blood and change. Fuck.