Holding on Before the Year of Letting Go
Light shone down from a cyan sky as we parked the car in the college admissions lot. It was a beautiful day. Seventy degrees. Sunny. February in Texas is like that. It can be the best of times, and it can be the worst of times. Thankfully, it was the former.
Ochre rays warmed our skin as we walked toward the building. He was all smiles. Confident yet humble. He gave a firm handshake. He spoke with a mixture of assurance and nerves. And I wondered, when did my little one who used to delight in dump trucks and mud puddles grow into this? When did the child who was obsessed with a certain tank engine mature into the young man who now sat beside me speaking of his hopes for the future? When did my little boy become a young man with only a year and a few months left at home?