Mom-son -1- Apr 2026

I will not make him feel guilty for growing up. I will not cry where he can see me (okay, maybe just once). And I will learn to love the fist bump, even while I miss the sticky, small hand in mine.

Stay tuned for Part 2: The First Inside Joke I’m Not a Part Of.

I raised this boy from a squalling, milky newborn. I cleaned his scraped knees. I sang him lullabies at 2 AM while the rest of the world slept. And now we communicate in knuckles. Mom-Son -1-

It started small. He closes his bedroom door now. He used to leave it open a crack, like a little question mark. Now it’s a period. When I ask about his day, “fine” is a full sentence. When I try to kiss his forehead goodbye at school drop-off, he ducks—just slightly—and gives me a fist bump instead.

For ten years, I was his sun. He orbited around me: my schedule, my voice, my hug at the end of a bad day. Now, slowly, he is building his own gravity. I will not make him feel guilty for growing up

But here’s what I’m discovering in Part 1 of this journey: his pulling away isn’t rejection. It’s the first draft of his independence.

A fist bump.

He’s not pushing me out . He’s practicing who he is without me for a few moments at a time. And honestly? That’s the whole point of this parenting thing, isn’t it? To work ourselves out of a job.

For me, it happened on a Tuesday afternoon. Stay tuned for Part 2: The First Inside

I stood frozen for a second, my palm still tingling from where his fingers used to be.

Because this isn’t the end of our story. It’s just Part 1.