Anyone who knows me knows that I tend to hold on to things (and yeah, I can hear the sarcastic “Oh really?” all the way from here.)
Many, many years ago, my son Griffin got interested in calligraphy. That year’s Christmas he got a calligraphy set and in the evening when I went to bed I found this note on my pillow.
I kept it. (did you really think there was even a remote chance I would not?)
This morning, after days of packing, writing lists, re-checking the lists, verifying the lists (are you sure you packed it?) my son left to begin his freshman year at RIT. Other than for school trips and a short stay with an Aunt, he has never been away from home.
And wow, is the boy ever ready to go. “I can’t wait to go,” he told me each night as the day to leave got closer. “I can’t wait.”
But then I also know, it’s time for my son to stretch his wings. We’ve taught him all we could. He knows to look out for little people, to eat his vegetables, to always be reading a book, and to put the seat down, even if he ever lives by himself. His compass points true, I’m sure of it. I’m not worried. It truly is time for the boy to leave.
This morning, the entire family stood on the porch and wished the member of our flock well, as he began his newest and brightest adventure. Once we could no longer see the car, I went upstairs to start my writing for the day and guess what I found on my computer?
Way to make this mama hen cry, Griff. God speed. Do well.