Virginia Woolf wrote about the need for “a room of one’s own”; and it is true that everyone occasionally needs time and space to be just with themselves–to reflect, to rest, to simply be.
So, when Edgar asked if he could go upstairs today to be alone, the empathic, human, fan-of-independence and -Virigina Woolf part of me thought, “Of course. Everyone deserves some space.” But the mother in me shrieked inside, “Edgar? Alone? Upstairs? Unattended? Aaaaggggghhhhh!”
Those who know Edgar personally know that he is as sweet and beautiful as he is terrifying. The shirt we bought for him when he was a year-and-a-half that read, “I Do All My Own Stunts,” was as accurate a predictor as anything could be. He moves in ways that belie his small stature as well as defy gravity. And I have had to learn to reconcile my maternal fears with his need to move.
But leaving him alone for more than sixteen seconds in a whole other area of the house?
Motherhood is synonymous with letting go. So let go I did–sort of. I gave him permission to go upstairs, slinking quietly down the hall every few minutes just to be sure he was okay.
On one of my stealth missions, I brought my camera, and this is what I saw:
So, he wasn’t completely alone–Dream Horse 2.0 was keeping him company.
It was a leap of faith to give him this space–albeit for only a few minutes. But he is growing up, and I am letting go. And I guess that–and a whole lot of love and gray hair–is what this relationship is all about!