Despite having told myself that I would not blog about my big boy leaving home because it was too personal, too close to home literally, I cannot help but miss him terribly. I am sitting at my desk listening to one of his favourite Latin singers and have tears running down my cheeks.
For years his goal has been to enrol in one specific university and I know - after having started his studies last week - he is very happy where he is. Knowing that he has found his passion and is following it in his own best way mixing work with friends and fun gives me serenity. It gives me pride and comfort seeing him fulfil his dream. What more could a mother want than to see her child setting a clear path, following it and succeeding in what he has set his mind on?
I did not give him any rules before he left. I did not make any recommendations. By my book, if hasn't learnt it by now it's too late to teach him anyway. Everything he is suppose to know he has picked up from his dad or had hammered into his head by his mother. His sister keeps him grounded with a complicity that despite their four year gap has them thick as thieves.
I miss his sleepy head in the morning, his grumpy look at breakfast, his deep voice calling down the corridor, his clothes hanging over his chair. I miss seeing him at his desk every time I pass his room, I miss hearing his Latino music blaring out of his stereo. I miss him strolling into the kitchen wondering what's for dinner. I miss his sense of humour, his teasing, his complaining. I miss his tension the days when Napoli soccer team is playing, I miss having a bunch of teenage boys in the house playing playstation and then staying for dinner. I miss his grin, I miss his mischief, I miss him!!!