We will be dropping my youngest son off at college tomorrow. I’ve written before that he is ready to move on and I am prepared. Having been through this twice before, makes it both easier and harder, all because I know what to expect. We’ll adjust.
We are going to have lunch today, just the two of us. That is a rare thing in a family of six. Children, even almost adult children, relish that undivided attention that one-on-one time with a parent gives to them. My son will be cracking jokes or saying things to get my goat. He’s the child who often heard me say, “Please stop being so inflammatory.” His teachers were always impressed that he knew a big word like “inflammatory.”
The funny thing is, my son will think that I will be listening to him, and I will be, to an extent. But I will be less intent on what he is saying and more intent in just savoring the whole essence of him – his familiar mannerisms, his quirky slang, his intense blue eyes. I read once that when you look at your child, you see every version of him or her, all at once. So when I am gazing intently at my youngest son today, I’ll see that round headed, easy-going baby who would pop his head up, just when I was convinced that I had gotten him to sleep. I’ll see that rough and tumble toddler with such a raspy voice that people told me he should be a radio announcer, when he was about three. I’ll see that little guy, who I peered at in the rear view mirror, as I took him to preschool, who talked and talked, making it easy for me to just rest and nod. I’ll see the young boy who was so tough on the football field and the basketball courts, yet so full of intense, righteous feeling, that he could never convincingly lie to anyone. I’ll see the skinny adolescent, always trying to keep up with his older brothers, yet eager to carve his own unique, impressive path. And all of those images will be encased in the handsome, earnest young man across from me at lunch, the young man with a broad shouldered 6’2″ frame, who will be making edgy remarks to get me off balance, all in playful good fun. I will savor him. I will be grateful for him. And I will swallow my tears before they show, because deep down, I know that we both are going to be just fine. We will have lunch together again, just the two of us, and the next time that we have lunch together, there will be a whole new interesting persona for me to get to know, added to all of the wonderful rest of them, that make up who my son is, to me.