The Part Where You Let Them Go

Pero sa parenting lang!

Some parents might think it’s careless to let a 14-year-old bike 48 kilometers away from home with his friends. And honestly, I get it. I really do. But that day, my husband and I said yes.

He asked for permission, told us where they were going, who he was going with, and what they planned to do. He promised to be careful. And while every overprotective-mother cell in my body was probably screaming ABSOLUTELY NOT, there was also this other thought I couldn’t ignore: How am I supposed to know if he’s ready for the world if I never let him experience any of it without me?

So off he went, and I, being the very chill and relaxed mother that I am, proceeded to check his location, wonder why Maps appeared to show my child somewhere in a river, ask where exactly he was, remind him to drink lots of water, tell him to tell Charles too, remind them to pray before heading home, and generally behave exactly like a mother who had absolutely, definitely, 100% let go.

Baby steps, okay?

At one point, he told me there was no signal at Kaybiang and sent me a photo. Eventually, I got another update that they were already in Naic, followed by another very useful piece of information: 1%.

His phone battery. Very reassuring. Thank you, anak.

But somewhere between watching that little dot on the map and waiting for the next message to come in, I kept thinking about something Crush said to Marlin in Finding Nemo: “You never really know, but when they know, you’ll know, you know?”

And annoyingly, the cartoon turtle had a point.

Parenting changes so quietly sometimes. For years, keeping them safe means holding their hand, knowing exactly where they are, deciding where they can go, and being close enough to step in when something goes wrong. Then one day, keeping them safe starts to mean teaching them what they need to know and trusting that some of it actually stuck.

I don’t think I was completely ready for Koko to bike that far from home, but maybe I didn’t have to be. Maybe part of raising them is realizing that our readiness isn’t the only one that matters. They grow whether we're ready for it or not, and eventually, we have to give them a little more distance, a little more responsibility, and the chance to show us what they can do with everything we’ve spent years teaching them.

That doesn’t mean I stop worrying. Clearly, the screenshots provide evidence for the prosecution. It just means I’m learning that trusting him and worrying about him can apparently happen at the same time.

Maybe that’s where we are now. He gets to ride farther, I get to loosen my grip a little, and he gets to prove he can handle himself. I still get to say, Where are you exactly? Drink water. Pray before you head home. And for the love of everything, CHARGE YOUR PHONE.

Seems fair.