Moving Day

What is this I see before me;
the second I walk in the door?
It appears to be all of your treasures
stacked in a pile on the floor.

Your golf clubs, a skateboard, a gym bag,
A blacklight and poster of a band.
And all of a sudden it hits me,
My legs become too weak to stand.

My mind races back eighteen years,
to the very first time I held you you.
Oh my God, how I loved you immediately,
I can't believe how our time flew.

I then return to the present,
"Oh no! He can't do this to me!"
I've got it, I'll ground him forever,
and that way I'll know where he'll be.

There are bars you can buy for the windows,
Let's just see him take off with that bag!
And then reality hits, oh God I hate that.
Reality can be such a drag!

So how would a mature mother handle this?
I really don't know where to start.
The internet? A book? There must be someone
who can tell me how to unbreak my heart.

Well, there is really no time for research,
with his bags full of his living gear.
I'll just tell him how I feel about him
and guilt him into staying right here.

So he comes in and says, "Hey, whats up mom"?
What's wrong? Have you been crying? Why?
I respond . . . "Tsk, no I don't think so!
I was cleaning and got dust in my eye."

So being the expert on parenting
I decide the truth might be best.
"Yes, I was crying, I've something to say
before you take flight from our nest."

I want you to know that I love you,
I believe in you and know that it's time.
Time for you to be on your own
Even though I feel left behind.

The pride that I have is enormous
To the world I have given this gift.
You are caring, and loving and oh so much fun
Take care, I'll miss you ... I say with a sniff.

He doesn't know quite what to say now,
He knows I'm not the mushy kind.
He nods and heads out the door
I know he thinks I've lost my mind.

I sit there alone in the house now
While he's looking outside for his dad,
to ask if I'm on any medication
because he's never seen me so sad.

What is this I see before me?
Nothing. I can't see through the tears.
So Brian, I'll smile and kiss you goodbye,
and cherish the past 18 years.