You can't see me right now, but if you could, you would want to ask me about the big, fat grin on my face. Three hours ago, I left the house worrying about how I was going to hold my own against a slate of very competitive tennis players in the quarterly mixed doubles social event at the club I work for. I obsessed about the hitch in my service toss, my inability to hit decisive ground strokes and my less than lightening reaction time. Now that it's over, all I can remember is that I got to play two hours of tennis with my son.
To say that I'm proud of the person he's become is comparable to saying that George Clooney is kind of good looking. He was the youngest participant of the twenty teams by almost twenty years but that didn't matter to him in the least. Everyone of his opponents commented on his politeness; his sense of fair play. Several people made a point of telling me that he was a testament to my good parenting. I can only hope that that is true. I only know that he gave up a Friday night to partner with his less than stellar tennis playing mom, always making me feel encouraged and supported. As we socialized with the other teams after two hours of playing, I couldn't help but feel blessed to have such an amazing person for a son.
As luck would have it, I got the added bonus of being able to drive him home. We talked about our matches as well as his plans for the future. He congratulated me on some good shots I had made and told me how much he enjoyed playing with me. He asked if he could come over on Sunday to talk about what path his life is going to take next. He sounded so mature, so ready to take on the next challenges in his life. Any worry I had about his future flew right out the window. As he hugged me, I felt so grateful to have raised this incredible young man. He's going to be just fine. And I couldn't be prouder.
No comments:
Post a Comment