Countdown--One Year until Charlie Graduates High School
I’ve spent the greater part of my afternoon creating an ad for the Rockwall-Heath Hawks football program. I used to be able to knock out that kind of Publisher document in my sleep, but I’m a little rusty.
My oldest son, Charlie, will be a senior next year, and we’ve paid tribute to his friendship with Ryan. The boys have known one another since they were babies, but they’ve gone to school together and played football together for many years. If I can figure out how to do it, I’ll post the pictures we’ve included in the program.
Anyway, as I was putting the ad together, it HIT ME! My baby graduates from high school next year.
THIS CANNOT BE POSSIBLE!
I hate to sound like my mom, or worse, every great-aunt I ever knew, who liked nothing better than to pinch my cheeks—thankfully, those on my face, not my rear end--and declare how big I was getting. But (no pun intended) . . .
THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!
I can’t have a child this old.
Because it means I’m that much older.
I can’t have a child leaving for college in a year.
I was cradling him in my arms trying desperately to get him to sleep—seems like only about three years ago.
I can’t say good-bye.
And I don’t want to.
But I must.
And you can help me. If you know any moms who’ve already passed through this season—with flying colors (I really don’t need to hear from those who crashed and burned!)—then, by all means, send them my way! I could use not only the moral support but the wise instruction about how to disguise an empty seat at the table or get used to not having five 17-year-olds eating everything in sight. (Most weekends our fridge and pantry look like a plague of locusts hit.)
And so, I have no choice but to let him grow up and leave home. I guess I should be thankful I didn’t have to kick him out of the nest when he learned to walk. (How do mother birds do it?!)
Actually, I want him to finish growing in wisdom and in stature during this school year so he’ll feel prepared and be emotionally ready to leave us. That thought helps . . . a little. Knowing I still have something left to accomplish, that I still have a place of value in his life. He needs me to help him complete this journey.
So, though I don't particularly relish the idea of finishing this part of my job, I will be faithful to do it. Waaaaaah!