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“I was thinking over Shabbos (Shabbat) and the need arose
for this piece of prose… 

A Shabbos of mixed emotions, sadness and pride, 
I cried, 
it being my son’s last Shabbos before going to England, to uni, 
to read law, 
knowing that, on Wednesday, he’ll be walking through the door,  
leaving home, 
not that he should ever feel alone
– this will always be his home! 

I said it out loud, over lunch,  
we’re so proud, a great Uni, law, 
but it does pull on my heartstrings, 
it’ll feel raw for a while,  
I’ll be pouring my heart out in poetry and prose, I suppose 

I wish things would stay the same, 
but that wish, it’s lame, 
as the reality of life is that there are stages, 
and this is one of them, 
kids flying the nest, finding their own way, 
how they want to work, 
how they want to play. 

We bring our kids up to be independent free-spirits, 
courageous, bold, their own choices, 
decisions without derision. 

They go with our blessings, 
knowing this is home,  
that they’ll never be alone. 

We pay a heavy price for having our kids, for this love, 
constant worry 
as they rush and hurry 
their way through their changing lives 
– quite a pace, 
seemingly a race. 
Yes, the worry, it is a heavy price,
but, I must say,
it is one I’m happy to pay!

He was never going to stay at home forever. 
My son’s an adult, 
and, as a result, he’s off, 
and we doff our caps to his independence, 
maturity and success, 
and the rest, 
to his right to live his own life.”


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