Today has been an odd day for me. It started off well enough until I decided I’d treat myself to a McDonald’s bagel and coffee for breakfast. What’s up with that? I never do that anymore. And then I wonder why my weight isn’t shifting? For a start, I can’t remember the last time I worked out (not like me at all) and how can one possibly lose weight if they aren’t going to the gym or mind what they eat. Bah.
So I ate the bagel and drank my coffee and ended up feeling slightly sick. It was so not worth it.
I watched a man enter the building (I happen to have a room with a view) who looked rather pleasant and surprise, surprise he made his way to my area. His meeting had been scheduled for over a month, however I wasn’t expecting such a handsome, cheerful psychiatrist to turn up. I temporarily forgot about feeling queasy. (Sorry Andy, but even my boss David commented).
The radio was playing some great tunes and I was getting on with quite a bit of work as I thought of the coming weekend.
I started to think about what today is. Today is the day our 17 year old lad gets a car. A car of his very own, one that he will actually drive, all by himself. Not just sit in and pretend to cruise through the streets as Oasis belts out of his sound-system. I’m not going to go into how incredibly hard he worked to get his license, or bleat on about how extremely lucky he is to have his dad and I help him purchase said car (he needs it to get to his apprenticeship training in just over a few weeks and will pay us back over the coming year). Because I’m so very proud of him and all he has accomplished; he is such a mature young man. Yet this doesn’t change the fact that he is going to be on the road soon without an experienced adult in the car, driving around at the exposure of all the other crazy drivers out there. And I’m feeling just a lot sick to my stomach over the fact that I can’t keep him safe and that we have to let him do this.
I just have to remember to breath. I felt the same way when I proudly taught my sister to drive and she went out on her own. It’s just a fact of life, a rite of passage, a big old lottery of luck with a bit of skill thrown in.
I’m going to go home and show my excitement (and bury my fear) when I see the little black Corsa on our drive and ask my boy if he’d like to take his daft (step)mom for a ride (providing his insurance came through).