Worry...
I wrote this at 8 AM this morning:
wor·ry
wor·ry
ˈwərē/
verb
1.
give way to anxiety or unease; allow one's mind to dwell on difficulty or troubles.
A week ago Sunday, I said goodbye to my 22 year old son, my baby, as he went to embark on an adventure. He was meeting up with his college buddy, Josh (safety in numbers) They were going to hike the entire John Muir Trail together. Beginning in Yosemite, for twenty days, they would trudge forth, gleefully off the grid (no phones, no communication). The southern terminus of the JMT is summiting Mount Whitney, making an end-to-end traverse of the JMT a 221 mile hike. Throughout the trail, the elevation change is 80,000 ft with the highest point climbed being Mount Whitney itself, at 14,505 ft.
All of this was unnerving for me, as a mom, from the beginning. However, things took a turn for the more worrisome last night, with a series of phone calls from Josh's mom. It turns out that Josh hurt his knee and would not be continuing on the hike. My son went ahead, without him.
At the point where Josh exited the trail, alone, we figure there is about another 120 miles of trail left, including the Mount Whitney summit. As I write this, I await a call from Josh with all the details. I'm certain there must have been a great deal of communication between these two buddies about separating. I know our son is determined to finish and I know he will have a life changing experience, having completed this incredible feat.
But that does nothing for the worry. The dwelling and the anxiety. Motherhood never gets easier. Children get bigger and their lives become their own, but the mother stays behind to fret. It's probably a good thing Kegan is off the grid. He is having his adventure and I know when he's done he'll share it with me. He'll see me as the supportive mom, one who allowed her baby to fly, not seeing me as the worrier back at the nest.
I wrote this at 1 PM:
give way to anxiety or unease; allow one's mind to dwell on difficulty or troubles.
A week ago Sunday, I said goodbye to my 22 year old son, my baby, as he went to embark on an adventure. He was meeting up with his college buddy, Josh (safety in numbers) They were going to hike the entire John Muir Trail together. Beginning in Yosemite, for twenty days, they would trudge forth, gleefully off the grid (no phones, no communication). The southern terminus of the JMT is summiting Mount Whitney, making an end-to-end traverse of the JMT a 221 mile hike. Throughout the trail, the elevation change is 80,000 ft with the highest point climbed being Mount Whitney itself, at 14,505 ft.
All of this was unnerving for me, as a mom, from the beginning. However, things took a turn for the more worrisome last night, with a series of phone calls from Josh's mom. It turns out that Josh hurt his knee and would not be continuing on the hike. My son went ahead, without him.
At the point where Josh exited the trail, alone, we figure there is about another 120 miles of trail left, including the Mount Whitney summit. As I write this, I await a call from Josh with all the details. I'm certain there must have been a great deal of communication between these two buddies about separating. I know our son is determined to finish and I know he will have a life changing experience, having completed this incredible feat.
But that does nothing for the worry. The dwelling and the anxiety. Motherhood never gets easier. Children get bigger and their lives become their own, but the mother stays behind to fret. It's probably a good thing Kegan is off the grid. He is having his adventure and I know when he's done he'll share it with me. He'll see me as the supportive mom, one who allowed her baby to fly, not seeing me as the worrier back at the nest.
I wrote this at 1 PM:
I
just got off the phone with my son's hiking buddy, Josh. We had a
twenty minute long conversation where he patiently answered all my
questions, the most significant and comforting to me was, "Do you think
he's good to finish the trail?" Josh said he was doing great, he had
enough food and they were hiking with several other people. I was not
to worry.
My sigh of relief could be heard for miles.
1 comments:
I am glad he is back safe at home, so you do not have to WORRY! It is a very good thing that he did not do the Pacific Crest Trail, I am not sure how you would have managed (there would be countless late night worry writings that would have led to Steve not sleeping either).
When does Kegan head back to school?
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