Graduation Present: It's a Boy
Most people get an all-expense paid trip, or enough money to relocate for the big job after graduation.
I got a kid, and he didn't come until 3 months later.
Having always pegged myself as maternal, he was a welcomed gift. The packaging, however, was a far cry from what I'd imagined up to my then 30 years of living. And unlike those who may notice bodily changes, which then prompt a trip to some after hours drug store to determine their maternal fate, all I had to do was stand still and shake hands in a lobby.There they stood. She was giving him as much guidance as a wide-eyed 17 year old was willing to absorb. He was set on his major, and she was hoping he'd signed up for all of the right classes--typical summer orientation scenario between parents and kids. I introduced myself to them both, and sought to soothe her fears. He'd chosen the right institution, the right residence hall (the one I supervised), and the right classes (one that I taught). She breathed a short sigh of relief, and he, a wiry 6'4", beamed with pride, grinning from ear to ear. He was a confident kind of charming, eyes filled with hope.
On Welcome Day, the first-year students moved about frantically, as did their parents and loved ones. "No the boxes go to recycling, but this is trash," and, "They said we can't have microwaves. But we can have refrigerators, so just take the microwave back to the car," was ringing in my ears, as I knew it would be for hours that day. Psychologically worn parents approached me with desperate faces, begging to be the exception to rules about curtains, nails in the walls, candles, hot plates, you name it. While gently letting down pleading parents and students, I saw his face in the crowd.I remembered him. He was looking around, with bags surrounding him, wearing the typical move-in attire of basketball shorts, t-shirt, and Js (Jordans). When our eyes met, he gave a big grin, and came in for the hug--right where we left off at orientation. I waited for his mother, whom I'd also met that hot day in June.
"Oh," he laughed, "she's not my mom. She's my guidance counselor! Yeah, she's not here today."
"Oh okay great! Wow, that's a good guidance counselor! Okay so where's your mom? I wanna meet her."
With the same confidence, and slight smirk, he shook his head, "Oh she's not here. She couldn't come." I learned long ago that when a conversation starts to go in an unexpected direction, say nothing, and observe. I took a moment to realize that no one else was with him. There was no dad telling him to lift his end of a heavy crate- no mom asking if he'd packed the surplus of towels she bought from Walmart. Returning the confident stare and smirk, I said, "Ok! Well do you need some help?"
"Oh no ma'am, I'm good! I've got it. It's not like we can bring BUT so much, y'know. Naah, I'm good. I'll get a lil' workout in, but thank you!" he asserted, with the same certain stare, and charming, boyish, grin. That was the beginning of us---the daily visits to my office to talk about assignments, girls, etc.
Over the next four years, I learned that health complications kept his loving mother from supporting most milestones, including performances, presentations, and even college graduation. Between Freshman move-in and graduation, I made as many firsts as possible. And even post-graduation, I've been a part of every new job, relocation, new girlfriend, every birthday, every holiday face-time session, every triumph, and every disappointment that God has allowed. Working in Higher Education, one has to be careful to assume that students who make it to college have all of the necessary tools to be successful. College in and of itself is daunting, and young people who have lived way more than nine lives before arriving to campus, need love and support, and sometimes just a friendly face that says, "You can do it. You've got this!"
Nearly a decade later, at least once a week, I hear the voice of the boy now 26 year old man saying, "Hey Ma, you busy? You got a minute?," and with absolutely no hesitation, I reply, "Hey sweetie, of course I've got more than a minute for you," because that's what a mom does--make every minute count. We laugh and celebrate the victories!. We cry and pray earnestly through the hard things. But in every moment, the one constant, is that he needs me.
I used to believe that the true sense of motherhood came from carrying a child for nine months, and watching him/her grow from infancy to adulthood. I am now more confident than ever, that the true sense of motherhood is rooted in being at the right place, at the right time, to give a timely love, in untimely circumstances. To date, he's my only son--my only child. I am proud to be his "God-mom" (he's got a loving mother and I dare not replace her). I'm thankful that my work in Higher Education continues to give me the gift that keeps on giving. Congratulations! It's a boy-now grown man.