Sometimes I am astonished to be reminded that my darling little boys are men.
These astonishing moments happen more frequently now. It can be something very little, or something much bigger, that triggers this feeling in me.
Boys to Men. Today it happened again.
I’ve written before about my youngest son (almost 25) who is living and working for the Peace Corp in Burkina Faso. We (me, my husband and oldest son who is 29) are traveling to Burkina Faso one month from today. We have been planning this trip for nearly a year. But this is actually the crazy thing – I’m not planning it. My son is.
I have always been the planner – to the extreme. I in fact, am obnoxiously prepared for all travel experiences – booking flights and hotels and excursions months and years in advance – often to the astonishment of the proprietor or manager of hotels and inn.
Sigh…its’ just the way I am. Obsessive/Compulsive.
But not this time – because I am dealing with Boys to Men. My son is in charge, and incredibly so. Last week he sent me an itinerary he has put together for our three weeks in Burkina. Vaguely familiar to my travel planning schedules I do, he included hotels and costs, transportation plans, travel distances and times, and excursions.
Wow. Who is this person? A chip off the ole’ block. A man, not a boy. My personal Africa travel planner.
It’s a very good exercise for me; let go. Let someone else take the reigns. Be spontaneous and enjoy.
Enjoy my Boys to Men.