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Good Morning, I’ve just seen the film Boyhood, a remarkable piece of cinema that charts the development of a boy called Mason from the age of 6 through to 18. What really makes this coming-of-age movie unique is the fact that it was shot over a period of 12 years, using the same actors. We literally see the cast aging before our eyes. And in just a few hours Mason goes from being a boy playing in the yard on a bike to a man leaving home in his car. Boyhood is as much about the changing stages of parenthood as it is about growing up. I watched the film with friends who were nearly all parents of children who’d reached the film’s inevitable end point. And it made for an emotional evening. Mason’s Mother suddenly being caught out by the realisation that her son was finally, actually leaving was a bit too close to home for most of those watching. I recently saw my own son (just 3 days shy of his 18th birthday) off on his travels and what should have been a simple summer holiday farewell was freighted with heavier implication and intimation. His journey to life’s next stage was well and truly underway. He was setting off a boy and would be coming back a man. And the moment caught me out: I knew this day would come but when it came I was totally blindsided by it. ‘Oh boy, he really is leaving home.’ I tried to pull myself together. This is all good and as it should be. He’s a man now. Let him go. Millions of people are going through the same and have been throughout time. Be grateful for the years you’ve had. Some don’t get to enjoy the privilege. Besides: he’ll be back and your daughter won’t be leaving for a few more years. But none of it was working. By the time I got home I was a heavy-chested wreck. His empty bedroom triggered more waves. From now on, even the mundane would be invested with reminders: no more switching off the left-on light every morning. No more grumbling at the rumble and thrum of band practice. Pretty soon we’d be taking down the blue-tacked posters and choosing paint to make his room into a guest room. Stop! Seeking solace for this existential wobble I turned to one of the great leaving-home stories - the Prodigal Son. At first I wasn’t sure if the parallel applied. I’m not expecting my son to fall into a dissolute despond and end up eating pigswill, nor am I expecting him to return home in disgrace. But that wasn’t the point. The picture of a father letting his son go when he’s old enough and then receiving him back unconditionally, with open arms, contains true encouragement for any parent with a child about to leave home: for the love that lets them go is also the love that brings them back.