Parallel Paths

My stepson, who is now an adult, sits in the passenger seat of my Tacoma as I take wrong turns and curse the city traffic on our way to breakfast. It’s probably our last opportunity to spend time together before the big move to Missouri. As I’m driving, I suddenly feel a distant but familiar feeling. I’m reminded of the little boy who used to sit in my passenger seat long ago; the boy who excitedly shared his thoughts and Starbucks drinks with me, the boy who sat quietly in a sleepy haze on the way to church, the boy in his football gear who proudly recounted his practices to me, and the boy who kept me company on mundane errands.

Then I realized, that little boy who I always wanted the best for has grown into the young man sitting next to me and he is on a journey that parallels my own. As I begin to recognize this intelligent and insightful person with the joyful laugh sitting next to me, something in me transforms. The uncontrollable worry and overwhelming anxiety about this boy’s future that I’ve been so tightly holding onto, just like the steering wheel in this truck, begins to dissipate into a confident knowing that he will be ok. As we drive down the road to breakfast (and into our self-actualization) I feel so grateful and so lucky to have this boy, this young man as a passenger in my life.

Clovers picked by my stepson