Empty Nester Mommy

I have two grown sons. They both live in large cities. One of them moved from Chicago back to Seattle because he said he couldn't afford to live in a safe neighborhood there, and he was afraid. He's my rebel, always doing something not quite safe. I worry that one day I will get "the call" -- you know the one, the one every parent dreads. The one Trayvon Martin's parents got. Even now, my son is thinking of doing a stint on a fishing ship, which is so dangerous they pay $10,000 for a few months work.

Last night, a 17-year-old boy was denied justice. I can't even cry for him, my sadness is so great. My son called me last night, and I had not heard the news yet. Now I think he must have, because he called just after the verdict came in. He knows I worry about him. He knows that I see him in every Trayvon Martin story, and pray every night for his safety from the George Zimmermans of the world.

We are white, but there are George Zimmermans in every color, around every corner. Seattle has a lot of gangs and gang violence is worse in the summer months. Who's to say he won't run into some crazy gang-banger one day out to prove himself and end up laying on the grass like Trayvon?

My other son lives in Chicago, and we all know how dangerous that town is. Even though he lives in a nice neighborhood, that won't always keep him safe.

Sometimes I wish my kids could have stayed small, so I could protect them forever, but that just doesn't happen. Baby birds fly off and have to do their best to stay safe from the predators on their own. All we can do is hope and pray they survive, and that we never get the call and have to see justice denied to our babies.

I am thinking maybe it's time for me to move out to Seattle. Florida holds nothing for me now.

Welcome to my new blog (like I don't have enough already). This blog is all about how to be a mother -- or how not to be a mother, whichever fits. 

My sons are both long ago moved out and on their own. It's been a really hard road sometimes, but I'm still their mom. We have not always had the best of relationships, and I was not always the best mother. I wish I had had someone to take me under their wing and show me how to mother better, but there were not decent mothers in my family to do that.

So here I am at 60, with only advice to give on what NOT to do and how to rebuild a relationship with children who don't actually want you to be their mother. It's taken me many years, and one son is still a little hostile toward me, but I've done, and do, all I can and now it's up to them.