The helicopter inside of me

There’s no one who makes me laugh like that (and sometimes exasperates me to the same extent), no one taking after me so much (while being so different), no one for whom I’ve crocheted so many monsters (and knitted so many loops, because he has lost them all), no one to worry about so much – while being very sure he’ll make his way.

Last Sunday, the son turned 14.

FOURTEEN years! He had wished for a Frankfurter Kranz (Frankfurt crown cake) with 14 cherries. A wish easy to be satisfied, “a piece of cake” so to speak. We would celebrate at a lake. It was a perfect day.

As most airlines consider 14-year-olds to be grown-ups (no comment), right now the son is flying all by himself to Mallorca to spend a week with friends. Estimated time of arrival: 7h38 pm local time.

Never again he’ll travel with a flight attendant holding his hand. Never again his parents will have to wait at the gate for the flight’s departure (because the airline wants it that way). He can handle that, he says. I am sure he can, still …

So, now I’m sitting on the porch, knitting one baby hat after another, telling me how wonderful it is to have so much time to myself (and for myself) over the next few days, only to realize there’s more of a helicopter mom inside of me, than I thought there was.

The little turquoise bonnet is made of cotton – perfect for the summer. The son took it with him (the minute I had woven in all ends) to give it to his friend’s baby sister. Otherwise, I would have hang it on the clothesline with the others for a group picture of bonnets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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