holding on (lyn)

It’s 7:30 when I wake up.  Alexander is still asleep.  The bus comes at 7:40.  He has an English test today.  His last test at Horace Mann.  You can imagine the chaos that erupts when I yell, “Alexander, get up.  It’s 7:30.” 

“OMG.  I fell asleep last night.  I didn’t even study for English.  What should I do?  I can’t get a C.”  I’m surprised at my own calm.  I have no suggestions that he can’t figure out on his own.  He frantically calls a friend for a ride.  He takes the quickest shower I’ve ever seen him take.  Within minutes, he shouts, “Good-bye; I love you,” and is out the door.

Wait, he didn’t eat breakfast.

Oh no, how much driving experience does the friend who is driving have?

Maybe he should see if he can take the test a different day, and just tell the teacher he fell asleep last night and is not prepared.

I forgot to ask if he’d be home for dinner.

I didn’t tell him that I’m going to a screening tonight and will be gone by six.

I worry all morning.  Then it hits me.  This is what letting go last night should have been about.  I’m not there yet.  I wonder if I will be by August when he leaves?  I doubt it.