I have a co-dependent relationship with spring. As nature blooms, my eyes water and my nose begins to run, yet I receive an abundance of work, which reminds me of how fortunate I am.

With spring, everything begins to grow along with my clientele list. The landscaping industry flourishes, as do the flowers. During this time, life is nothing short of grand.

The wind blows just right, and the sun sets a little easier this time of year. Then, without notice, spring makes its departure. We’re soon left to swelter, just adding to the confusion of a love affair so fleeting. Maybe that’s just what seasons do; they rise and fall, then see their way out.

We all have a favorite season and conviction for what makes it special. Fall is fuzzy and warm, while chilly and crisp. Winter is performative, yet intimate. Summer is lazy but filled with purpose, and spring is simply grand!

It’s uncanny how our moods match the seasons, especially once spring has sprung. We awake from dormancy and display our color. It’s poetic in a way… the goodness of sunlight and the gentle night air bring glory to our being and growth to what was bare.

Although I stroll in spring’s bliss, my shadow walks with melancholy. I feel older these days, but on occasion I moonlight as young. It’s confusing. I know what appears important, yet I forget what matters.

So when the signs are there and the universe speaks, I try to be present and make sure to listen.

Deep within my playlist on my phone sits a song by Tom Rush. It’s titled “Child’s Song.” My stepfather Alan used to play it for me on his turntable. The lyrics tell a coming-of-age story about a boy and his parents, whom he needs but must outgrow.

It just so happens that this song played while I was driving and listening to music the other day. The lyrics wasted no time in giving me a nudge. It wasn’t long before I began thinking about our son Landon attending MSMS this year. He begins in the fall and will leave Shannon and me with full hearts and an empty nest.

As I drove down the highway, I turned up the volume – “Goodbye Momma, goodbye to you too Pa.” A knot formed in my stomach and a lump in my throat. Our baby boy will soon be leaving our home.

As I listened to each beautiful word, I awoke from dormancy just thinking of Landon’s future in full bloom. All the while, my eyes watered and my nose began to run; I was receiving an abundance of a different type of work, and I remembered how fortunate I am.

Processing our children leaving home requires work. Our energy shifts, and our purpose changes. Tom Rush says, “Each of us must do the things that matter, all of us must see what we can see.” As parents, we can’t allow our worlds to grow smaller, despite our children outgrowing us every day.

We were all once as young and scared as they are, and still not much has changed. Only now, our fears have become a long conversation with life, always asking… “Are they gonna be OK?”

I remember the weeks leading up to Landon receiving the news about MSMS. He was preoccupied and carried a heaviness with him. He was nervous, excited and maybe a tad bit scared, but why not be? It’s a prestigious honor! Then his acceptance email arrived, and his demeanor was vibrant and bright, like a beautiful spring day.

Recently, I asked him if he’d been nervous while awaiting that big news. With a sheepish grin, he said “yes.” I shared with him a memory of a conversation with my Uncle Greg while visiting at my grandmother’s house years ago. I was preparing for an interview with a renowned chef and told him how nervous I was. He said something I never forgot: “We’re only nervous when it matters.” He was right.

Shannon and I plan to soak up all the time we can with Landon before he conquers life as he’s intended to do. We have many events planned for each passing season and hope to do the things that matter and see what we can see.

Then, before we know it, Landon’s life will be like the words of “Child’s Song.” Our eyes will water and our noses will run as the lyrics sing a tale as old as time…

“Got to make one last trip to my bedroom, guess I’ll have to leave some stuff behind, it’s funny how the same old crooked pictures just don’t seem the same to me tonight.”

“Goodbye Momma, goodbye to you too Pa.”

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist and is currently the general manager of a local landscaping company. Bowen writes in his free time and is working on a book about his experiences and travel.

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