In ten hours, my son embarks on a fantastic journey, and I find myself overwhelmed with pride, hope and joy.  We spent this evening on a farm in Plattsburg, at the home of my friend Ellen Carnie.  Patrick mingled with people twice his age and more, never needing me to guide him, never lacking for a segue into conversation with folks whom he had never previously met.  People came over to me periodically and asked if “that young man” was my son, and upon learning that yes, he was, they would invariably tell me something quite complimentary.  “He’s so smart,” they would say.  “So curious, so engaging.”  I smiled at each happy disclosure, and gave my standard answer:  “He grew up will in spite of his mother, and mostly because he has it in him.” And I mean it, too; I stumbled madly through motherhood, unsure, hesitating, lost.  Many times that young man did silly tricks to turn my tears to laughter.  He’s called me from Mexico, Hollywood, Chicago and Tennesse.  He’s gone days, weeks, and once, even an entire month without calling me at all.  Without my advice or consent, he pledged a faternity, sought an internship, applied for graduate school.  I always feared being the type of mother who would never let her child leave home, so I insisted he do so every chance, to battle my natural tendency towards over-protectiveness.  In the last year, he has surpassed any teaching I could have given him, and now, he is the teacher and I stand in awe of his accomplishments as a human being. He sets forth tomorrow with whatever he has become to serve as a springboard for his future.  As I sit here, I think of every hope that I have ever had for him, and I know that in his hands, any dream he cares to pursue will become a reality.  I have no complaints about my son; only gratitude, that I have had the opportunity to see what he has made of himself and to be some small part of his grand adventure. And so — he goes.  And I can’t wait to hear what happens next. I’ll borrow these words of a true Wordsmith, to set him on his way good and proper:

“Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate

And though I oft have passed them by

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien