4 weeks from tomorrow, T and I will drive north with a car packed full of things, including my once-little boy. Then we will unload the car and leave the things and my boy behind before we drive the three hours home. It’s a well-planned journey and it sounds so casual, like it’s a typical weekend errand. But I can’t even write about it without tears filling my eyes at the prospect, which still feels a little unreal. I’m excited at the next steps of his life’s journey; I know that he’s ready and excited himself. But here at the precipice of this momentous change I find myself wondering how it is that 18 years could fly by so quickly.
He’s chosen a school that fits his needs and interests; he’s already made friends with the members of the cross country team with whom he will run miles and miles in the coming years. He’s excited about his class schedule. These are all good things; even great things. I am so aware of the many blessings in my life at this moment.
He’s already been gone for half of the summer; he’s in Spain right now. When he returns on Monday, we’ll settle back into our usual summer pattern. In my case, it’s with an awareness that I am closing out this chapter of my life as a parent. The next few weeks will have some final preparation and, I hope, some quiet moments together for JT and me. I come to this point expectant, but with no expectations, with a full heart and a daily mantra to remind me to live in the moment, especially as the moments feel so fleeting.
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