It was 3:04 am, I woke up, looked at the clock and had a rush of emotion as my mind instantly thought, he IS leaving. In that instant I wanted to go jump in his bed and cuddle him close. As if he was eight all over again. But that is just it, he is not eight, nine or even ten. He is grown. He is ready. He is doing just what he is supposed to. And as much as I believe just that, it is so hard to let him go. I know full heartedly he can’t grow here. He can’t become who he needs to be with me wrapped around his arm. He must go. So tomorrow I set him free.
