It ended just how he wanted it to, without notice- no fanfare, no big celebration. With just a quick high five to me and a flash of a smile, he is done. My son’s final year of high school. Done and dusted. He nodded and said he was finished, no more assignments, or tests to turn in. And with that- he started making himself and his little brother scrambled eggs.
With his usual 17 year old reserve, he mentally put his senior year up on the closet shelf with his old basketball and soccer medals, and moved on.
In this, he is his father’s child. Not one to have people fuss over him, he’s glad to celebrate others- and then go back to what he loves most. Soccer. A few close friends and family. His truck and our dog. Just not always in that order.
I can now see how the years can just slip by in a blur. It was at times, almost too much- those years of sports and school- all the coming and going. Now we are here, at the end. I feel like I just woke up from a quick nap on the train only to find I missed my stop. Been feeling like that a lot, lately.
So now, I’m wide awake- but with more stops ahead. Stop, to see if there will be restrictions on attendees allowed into the commencement activities. Then another stop, to see when and how our extended family can quietly celebrate his achievements with him. Then once again to see if his first semester in college will be virtual or… maybe just normal?
I’d be lying if I said I just want things to go back to being like they were. Where I could easily auto pilot my way through life since I relied on things and plans and people making sense. Now most of that is gone. But maybe, that’s not so bad.
Because now, more than ever- I’m paying attention. I’m no longer sleepwalking through; there is no “normal” any more. Life can move fast, especially when you’re waiting between stops. Yet I can’t afford to miss another one. Especially the quiet ones. I’ve come to see that frequently those are the ones that mean the most.