A mother’s job

My son, Jay, is in the middle of job-hunting adventures.

He has had three interviews with one company that he really would like to work for, and someone from that company is supposed to call him with news—good or bad—during the next week.

Jerry, his father, and I hope the news is good. “I’m worried about whether or not Jay will get this job,” I told Jerry.

“You’ve been worrying about Jay since he was born,” Jerry replied.

It’s true. Mothers worry. At least, I do. But, it’s true, too, that I need to remind myself that this child of mine is 23 years old and will finish an M.B.A. in December. He will find a job. He is doing fine. He’s not a child who needs a mother to worry about him and tell him what to do.