What If You Fly...?
My mom was a storyteller. How I loved to sit and listen to her tell tales about her life. In each one there was always a lesson, a teachable moment.
I was a little over a year old. We were living in the mid-west, on an Air Force base where the houses were in rows and the grass soft and green all around. It was an early spring day, the sun warm on our faces. My mother walked with me.
She said I learned to walk early and was quite capable of walking on my own from the start, but would always have to hold her hand in order to move along. On this particular day, in order to wean me off the hand holding, she cut a piece of string. She held one end and me the other. She said I was agreeable to this and so we went, on our walk. My mother holding one end and me the other.
Then it happened. In her effort to 'push me out of the nest', my mother gently opened her fingers and let go of the string. I didn't notice at first and walked blissfully along, straight and strong. I looked up smiling, expecting to see the magical string in action, holding us together, giving me the power to walk, but instead saw that she had let go.
She said I got so upset I sat down right there and cried in anger and frustration as if to say "How dare you let go!"
She giggled telling me the story and would share it from time to time through the years, whenever I needed a push along, or needed to let go. Thanks, mom. <3