A couple of months ago, my older son, Casey, turned seventeen. SE-VEN-TEEEN!

In the last couple of years, he’s gone from boy to young man. I knew it  when:

• Everything in the boys’ section of Target was too small. Photo by Patrick Hoesly
• He fit into castoffs from my husband’s wardrobe.
• I asked him if he was getting a ride from a friend to a school activity, instead of asking what time we needed to leave.
• I made plans to go out with my husband in the evening without worrying about leaving him (or his younger brother) at home.
• He took the SAT, not as part of program for gifted kids, but with his peers.
• His morning routine included a shower.

In less than 18 months, he’ll be away at college and our job as parents will be largely over. Whatever values we instilled in him (or lack thereof), whatever habits he formed under our roof (good and bad), whatever quirks that we embraced or dismissed, will largely be with him for many years. While he’s not completely “cooked,” our role as head chef will be completed.

My husband and I can be proud of the end result. My son is his own person. Several years ago, he stopped going to the karate studio, a few months before testing for his black belt. He no longer enjoyed the routine. What seemed like an abrupt decision to me was the culmination of something that had been brewing in him for awhile. One day, as he got into the car to go to the dojo, he announced, “I don’t want to go anymore.” Much like my husband, decades ago, quit a job that didn’t fit. One day, you just know whatever you’re doing doesn’t make sense for who you are. 

My son is intelligent, with a dry sense of humor, an articulate writer and an avid reader. He’s respectful to others, including his aunts and uncles and grandparents at family gatherings. He reserves a special gentleness for the family cat. I trust him to learn to drive on my car.

This summer, we’ll visit schools. And before I know it, we’ll drop him off at college. It’s not a day I’m looking forward to. I’m not one to let go graciously. I’ll sob and my eyes will well up all
the way home. My husband will try to
comfort me, and then I’ll remember how lucky I am to have him by my side. 

Photo by powerbookfrance

I am keenly aware as I write this how precious the time is that we have with our kids, even though some days it can feel like we have too much time with them. I know now why many years ago, one of my colleagues came to my office when he first learned that I was pregnant, with my first child and had that look on his face. He was congratulating me, and he was also remembering. His children were grown and I was reminding him of earlier years, when his offspring were still babies or toddlers or kids or even teens. He was trying to tell me–you are so lucky and you won’t believe the incredible ride that you are about to go on. Being still young, I couldn’t fully understand his words, beyond being a cliche.

I know now the meaning of his words.

Yes, it’s been an incredible ride. Thanks, Casey.