It is the morning of my son’s high school graduation. In less than 12 hours he will cross the stage to receive his high school diploma. One chapter in his life will close, another will soon begin.
I am in my bedroom as I write this. I take a sip of coffee, write a little, pace up and down the hall and sit back down to write more. I walk by my son’s bedroom. He’s still asleep. I know that he is dreaming of his upcoming senior week trip to the beach tomorrow with his friends. In my mind today, I am reviewing chapters k-12.
I have so much bottled up emotion in anticipation of this day. Early on in my career as a nurse, I learned not to publicly display emotion. I don’t like to. Three of my friends who’s kids graduated last year tell me it’s inevitable today. In last years commencement, my friends knew where each other was sitting and every time they’d make eye contact with each other, they were all tearful. They told me to bring a box of tissues. Some days I want to burst into tears at the thought of my little boy achieving this milestone and grab him and hold him tight. Other days I’d like to drive him to the beach himself so he can bury his senioritis deep into the sand and come home refreshed and ready to work his summer job, clean his room and be willing to contribute to household chores again.
I’ve always believed that the anticipation of a major emotional event is far worse than the actual event. I know I’ll be fine later. Tomorrow I’ll watch my son get into the car with his buddies for a week at the beach. I will pray for their safety and be grateful that my son has this experience.
I look forward to the college chapter of my son’s life in the same way I look forward reading a new book that I know I’m going to enjoy. Dorm life. College courses. New friends. Fun. Choosing his major. College marching band. Watching a new level of my son’s intellect evolve. I can’t wait to read them all!