More than once tonight, kind friends said, “You must be so proud.”

And I am, but not the way you think. I’m sure the unspoken words on the end are “of Sam.” When they say it, I always smile and say, “I’m very glad he’s my son.”

Because I am. And in every way you might think.

I hope Sam is very proud of his accomplishment. He worked for a long time to reach it. He has every reason to be proud of himself right now.

But I didn’t do this. Sam did it. He put in the time, and he forged the relationships, and he took the risks, and he stuck with it.  I didn’t do much more than show up at courts of honor and get my pin and beam at my son. This goes on his resumé, not mine.

Oh, don’t get me wrong: I am proud.

I’m proud that such a fine young man holds me in high esteem (I just asked him and he said he did), that he shares his jokes with me and considers me his best editor. I’m proud that I can make him laugh really hard. I’m proud that he’ll hang out with me and play Civ Rev with me, and make it look credible that he really wanted to do just that.

When I pinned his Eagle on Sam, I whispered, “I am so glad that I got to be your mother.”

And I’m very proud that I am, too.

© E. Stocking Evans 2013