Minutes before, he was sitting there in the car.
I could hear his voice
We walked together
across the grass
He was somehow still under my wing
I asked him if he was scared
But it was me who was frightened
Fearful of the wind, of the heights and of change
In a moment he lifted off and was gone
Soaring with the wind and closer to the sun
And me still small and standing upon the soil.
I remember Rumi's words: love him as the archer loves the arrow, even as it flies from the bow
There is something in this for me
I must let my son be my teacher
I must learn to let go of the fear that I have cultivated, of the wind and the heights and the change
I must learn to be like him and rise closer to the sun