This past Sunday, my youngest son went off to Australia. It was bittersweet as I told everyone who asked, “How did it go?” At 25, he’s heading to Melbourne to begin his career as a teacher, and while my heart is bursting with pride, it’s also feeling a little emptier than usual. Time marches on, doesn’t it? It feels like only yesterday he was a little boy, and now here he is, the youngest of my three, stepping onto a plane to start a whole new chapter. How will he even find the airport without my help? I mean, at one time, he called from university just to ask how to make spaghetti! Fact!

It’s funny how the little moments you tucked away over the years, the ones that seemed so ordinary at the time, quietly turn into the big moments that you hold onto. So, I needed to blog the shit out of this one, just to stop the tears from flowing because:

a) I’m a published author (snicker), and perhaps one day he would appreciate this heartfelt blog from his mama.

b) To stop me from thinking how in God’s name will he ever survive without me helping him get dressed in the morning. I need to remember he is 25, has a degree, and a passport, and…

c) to convince myself that he will be fine! “You will be, right, Owen?” 😉

So, as the story goes, all those years ago, I was up early one school morning and needed to make a quick run to the grocery store before my three boys woke up.

As I turned the corner toward home, I saw our enormous back field completely covered in the most beautiful misty fog. It looked as though the clouds had fallen out of the sky and landed in our park. It was one of those mornings for me where possibly the clouds were also tired of keeping it all together!!! Hmmmm…

It honestly took my breath away. My first thought was, My boys have to see this. My second was, They can be a little late for school. I’ll drive them. Besides, it happened often in our hood. The Kiss and Ride was always full of parents running behind…some in robes, some in sweats, hair in messy buns, and at least a few who had clearly decided a bra was optional.

I pulled an awesome power slide into the driveway and gathered my two younger boys … “Get in the car, I have something to show you!” Naturally, they assumed either something was wrong or I had lost my mind.

When we arrived at the field, I told them the clouds had fallen from the sky and that they could run through them; maybe even catch them, if they were quick enough. So off they went, racing into the mist like little airplanes, trying to catch a cloud. Possibly one of those “you had to be there” things – one of those perfect, tiny moments in time that somehow becomes enormous in your memory.

I don’t think I captured it on film. I scrolled through my older Facebook posts, but couldn’t find it. I believe this was before every parent had a cell phone permanently attached to their hand. With a little help from my AI bestie, the image above comes surprisingly close to how I remember it.

The weeping willow is still there, big and beautiful as ever. The field, however, has since become a sandbox complete with plastic slides, swings, water play, and doggie doo!

And my middle son, (the one that truly appreciated this fun delay from school) for accuracy, would not have been dressed in matching corduroy pants and an itchy wool sweater like his little brother. Both boys would more likely have been sporting Target Pokémon T-shirts, because apparently that was the height of fashion.

My point, and I do have one, is about time. About slowing down long enough to notice the unexpected magic. And perhaps that’s what has caught me off guard this week: how I got from there, standing in a field with my little boys, to here, watching my youngest leave for Australia.

In my blogging notebook, all I’d written was “the time they ran in the fog…” Naturally, that sent me down the photo-album rabbit hole. And holy smokes, we all know what that does. Two hours later, I hadn’t found the picture, but I’d found a hundred other reasons to wonder where the years had gone. I’m supposed to be purging, but at this rate, I’ll finish sometime around NEVER!!!

My three boys are grown now, working hard and trying to save money. Apparently, “money doesn’t grow on trees” has finally hit home. I am very proud of each one. But I’m still trying to work out how that little boy racing through the fog became someone who can cross an ocean without me. I mean, seriously, I thought Brock University, an hour and a half away, was far. Did he think a different continent would be an easy commute for me? I think not!

I suppose that is why one ordinary morning can stay with you for a lifetime. It reminds you that they were once small enough to believe they could catch a cloud, and that, somehow, they did.

Australia, please take care of my boy.

And Owen, if you’re reading this, call me. Text me. And try to figure out how to get me Australian Open tickets, because I’m coming your way in January. Don’t worry, I won’t stay too long! ❤️Wink Wink

xoxo Mama

p.s. I ❤ you to the moon and back… This is a picture I captured in Oakville on the evening he arrived in Australia…The universe works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?