When Time Won't Stand Still

One week after my girl left for Colorado, moments after I completed a discussion monologue about how to take on adult-like responsibilities for oneself, the very day my baby turned 17 years old - a.k.a. yesterday - Josh gave me hope that all this growing up isn't really happening.
That is, Josh sold his Jeep several weeks ago and has yet to buy a replacement vehicle. Which means most days he is scheduled to work - I drive him in. Because I usually have places to go during the day for which I need to use my van. Most of the times I've driven him to work he has been opening - so nobody is there when we arrive.
But not so yesterday.
Co-workers saw me bringing him to work.
And as I dropped him off, Josh mumbled, "I don't like you bringing me to work. I feel like a kid."
And there - for just a moment - I looked at my physically-adult-but-developmentally-not-quite-there-yet son - who wants so much to be a man and do manly things, who is anxious to be able to have the freedoms of an adult yet doesn't seem eager to tackle the corresponding responsibilities - and thought, But you are, aren't you? Aren't you still my little boy?

This new phase of parenting is a tricky one. Trying to convince a man-child that he needs to listen and learn - because he really doesn't know everything he thinks he knows. Attempting to teach "adulting" to one who would rather just go fishing all day. Wanting to do it all without losing one's ever-loving mind. All the while seeing a small blonde-haired, blue-eyed toddler in one's memory, just wanting to pick him up and never let him go - assuring him that Mommy will always be there to make sure he's OK.

Yeah. That's pretty much what it's like in my world right now.
Looking at my man-child, remembering my toddler - trusting that if I could teach him to walk and run, I can also show him how to fly.