My Favorite Person

Who are your favorite people to be around?

My son has been my most favorite person to be around for the last 18 years. You may say this is obvious, but less than you can imagine. I am now realizing I much prefer to be around him than to share a house with him, something I have not been doing for the last month and a half since he moved out to go to school in another city.

So, being around and living together are two very different things. And being around is way more fun than sharing a house. Not having to parent him every day, not getting annoyed by his messy room, and not having my sleep interrupted by his noise are things I have been enjoying.

I do miss his physical presence, but I text him every day, which gives me the part I love: I love talking to him and learning all the things he knows about bikes, metalwork, machining, mountain biking trails, projects, and what his friends are up to! I love learning all the things he is experiencing living in a big city and going to one of the best machining courses in the country.

I also love planning trips with him. I didn’t travel much when I was young and grew up wanting to explore the world. He might have been lucky to have a mom who wants to travel and brought him everywhere. At 18, he still wants to spend time traveling with his mom—this is more than precious. Something we have in common that will carry on for the rest of our lives.

He is also an incredible downhill biker, very technical, precise, and always wanting to get better at his craft. It’s inspiring to see. And no, it’s not all flowers and beautiful moments. We had our dose of grieving, hardship, and situations he is absolutely too young to have gone through. But maybe that’s why he is so mature?

His dad passed away when he was only five years old. Since then, we have been exploring life and the world together. The loss created the bond we share today. A ski accident when he was 16 deepened the hardship but also the bond—it was a very scary time while he healed from a terrible concussion that lasted six months or more.

I am so proud of the young man he is becoming and grateful for the distance, not because I love him less, but because I get to love him better. Turns out, I don’t need to live with my favorite person to stay close to him. I just need to show up when it matters—and let him show me who he’s becoming.