A Love Story

In 1991 I fell profoundly and deeply in love.  It really caught me by surprise.  I mean here I was already happily married.  How could this be?   It was and is a love so visceral it sometimes makes me ache. 

It is my son Nick that I’m writing about.  He is 18 and about to graduate from high school.  It seems like just yesterday when I held him in my arms for the first time.  I was terrified I would drop him.  Now I’m terrified he is going to move out.  I mean I know it has to happen someday but I’m not emotionally ready for him to be an adult. 

Nick Edmondson

After all, it was just a couple of days ago when he started walking, wasn’t it?  Can it be that he is just a few days from walking on stage to receive his diploma?

What happened to the kid who loved to climb things?  I see him vividly on a rock wall and wondering to myself:  If he falls will he break a bone or will it be a more serious injury?  I have to decide right now whether to warn him or accept the consequences of the fall.  Oop, he jumped…he’s ok. 
 
I can see him looking in back of the television to see if those people on the screen were back there.  That was just a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?  Now he writes, edits, directs and produces videos for his own YouTube channel.  Which, by the way, was still years in the future when Nick was born.
 
There he goes, riding unsteadily and wobbly on his first bike ride.  I think that must have been just in the last few days too.  Will he ever get the hang of riding a bike?  I better monitor where he goes…don’t want him to get lost or get into heavy traffic. 
Now he drives a car confidently and well.    I still worry though.  When he’s out late I have the phone on beside my bed. 
 
I used to wonder:   Will he have friends?  Will he have a girlfriend?  Will he be comfortable around other people?   From a parent of his first “girlfriend” in middle school:  “Nick was the very best person  for our daughter to have as a first boyfriend.  He was kind, thoughtful and treated her wonderfully.”    And this year he hosted several kids every Tuesday night to watch “Lost.”  Friends indeed.
 
Sometimes I would think:  He seems so quiet.  Now he’s the lead singer in a punk rock band, plays a mean guitar and can sing and play every song Muse ever did.  Oh, and did I mention that he was named Best Actor for his comedic performance during his  high school Drama Fest?  And he is an excellent improv performer?
 
Of course I always wondered, will he be happy, well-adjusted and have good values?  After all they come out hard-wired and all we can really do is paint the white lines, teach them the right values and gently push them out into the world.    He is well grounded, calm, thoughtful and comfortable in his own skin.  He makes good choices (very anti-drinking, smoking and drugs.) but doesn’t preach to others.  His friends are similarly independent and he really can’t stand posers. 
He’s looking forward to college and pursuing a career in film.  He hopes one day to be a director or editor or both.  I’m delighted he is following his passion and excited for what his future holds.
 
I could go on and on.  The point is that he’s a fine young man and among the ten coolest people I know.  I’m lucky to know and him and call him my son. 
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7 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Dave on May 25, 2010 at 1:54 pm

    Great piece Jan. Nick is also very lucky to have had you and Barb as parents. There’s (the right use of the apostrophe, right?) a reason he turned out to be the outstanding young man that he is – he has great parents. You should be proud that he’s your son. But Nick should also be proud that you’re his dad!

    Reply

  2. Posted by Kathleen on May 25, 2010 at 3:49 pm

    This is lovely Jan.

    Reply

  3. This is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read. What a gift for Nick to have for the rest of his life. Congratulations on doing a great job, being extremely lucky, or some combination of the two.

    Reply

  4. Posted by Hillary on May 27, 2010 at 9:48 pm

    Awww… that is so sweet! What a great gift to Nick.

    Reply

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