Yesterday, you and I got into a spirited debate over my reluctance to allow you to drive to a wrestling tournament in a town an hour away. My reluctance centered around the road conditions following the first real snowstorm of the season; I was, understandably, worried about the possibility of an accident given your relative inexperience with winter driving.
Your position centered around your imminent relocation to a college which is located in a city many hours, and, an entire mountain range, away, and; in needing to gain experience with winter driving before you are required to make that particular drive with any sort of regularity.
It was a valid argument, I must admit.
Your secondary argument, however? Not so valid.
The point, according to you, was that you are practically grown up now, and, hence, I should no longer worry about you.
Which? Ha,ha,ha,ha,ha!! Have you met me?
You do realize that I am your mother, right?
Then you must realize that, as your mother, I will worry about you for the rest of your life. Indeed, when you are seventy-five years old and are driving to my nursing home to celebrate my hundred and second birthday; I will be anxiously wringing my hands and pacing the halls with my walker, worrying about you driving through a late autumn snowstorm.
That's my job.
So, no, dear child; your secondary argument will not stand.
I will, however, acquiesce to your first argument and I will allow you to test the roads, in order to gain experience for your future driving needs.
And, I will increase my conversations with God, accordingly. He's a parent, too; He gets it.
Love, your momma.