2,000 miles. It is breath taking. Will will be flying to San Francisco next week for more training. Then he will be working on a long term project in web development.
When we took him to the interview 70 miles away, there was the risk that he would move away, and it happened. When he was offered the position as an entry level web developer, there was the risk, in fact the certainty, that he would travel for his job.
Now, he is traveling to San Francisco. The project manager really wants him to come San Francisco and not Chicago. He interviewed well, the project manager told him.
A ship is safest in the harbor, but that is not what ships are built for. (John Shedd) This saying has been in my email signature line for the last 10 years or so, to remind myself daily that I cannot keep them in the harbor. Oh, the internal struggle of parents of high functioning autistic adult children.
But to keep them in the harbor is not healthy for them or for us. We have constantly talked to our children about their futures, creating expectations in their minds and ours. When Mary told us that she should not have to sweep the floor because she wasn’t very good at it, I told her that she needed to practice for living in her own apartment. Not if, but when. When you go to college, we said. When you get a job, we said.
Now the rubber meets the road. I hope the preparation and the training are enough to help him through. It is wonderful, yet exhausting. We will be gripping our seats for his next steps. So I pray, pray, pray for his safety, that everything goes smoothly, but I resist the urge to tell him he can’t go. I don’t know how he is going to manage it, so I pray. And we encourage him to seek advice, to talk to others to prepare himself. Our time of preparing him is over; he is responsible for his own path.
Awesome. Well, challenging but awesome none-the-less. Our ship is still in the harbor and you are right, it is safe, and easy, but in no way feels complete. One day, I know.
Congratulations to Will and to you as you embark (there goes the ship metaphor again!) on this huge journey. I am sending you both good thoughts.
Thank you. He leaves Monday morning, has three flights and one hour on a train. His company has made all the travel arrangements.
I’d be a nervous wreck but I’m sure he’ll be fine. I love reading about your children since they are a good bit older than mine.
I am a nervous wreck right now. He has flown on three planes today, but the final 17 miles by train might be the problem. He’s not there yet.
He just texted me that he is at the hotel. Whew.
He called and said the last part of the trip was the worst. The planes were fine, but he made a mistake and got on the wrong train and then the hotel was farther than he thought. Someone gave him a ride the rest of the way. Thank you, Lord.