I dropped my third son off for his high school freshmen orientation this morning. Minutes earlier, I had watched his older brother’s closest friend drive up the street for college. From close beside me I heard Ian ask,  “mom, what is it like to be old and see us repeat things you did so long ago?”

And I think to myself,  I am not old. So I answer Ian based on the real question – what is it  like to experience the passing of time?

Time is a fleeting glimpse of life from different angles. It allows you to be a spectator and a participant depending on your seat in the room. His seat been the same so far, mine morphs each day.

I don’t feel old, but I feel the passing of time.  My mind feels the same, but clearly I am viewing life from a different angle. So, I answered like this:

It was 33 years ago that I walked through the same high school doors that you  walked through this morning. Literally  – the same doors –  just on a newer building.

You are the fifth of our six member family to parade through these halls. So much is the same. Yet, so much is different.

Erik and Adam bought their first car yesterday – the same car that will take them off to new adventures away from home and into their future. I love the car, and I hate it too.

I wish I was making sense today – what I’m making is memories – and remembering so many things.

I remember your third birthday party – you wore your Buzz Lightyear costume all day, and Erik, was, of course Batman. I am remembering my first car, the first time Erik’s several friends came to my home to play Dungeons and Dragons and really, never left. I see them all now, quietly wrestling with saying good-bye knowing it’s not forever, but also knowing that life will never be the same. I am missing Adam as he has embarked on his future for real and won’t be home for a while yet – a strange and wonderful fact.

I see ten young men at my table processing the leaving of each other and childhood, and oh so excited about what the future has in store. I see success and joy and a lifetime at their feet. And I also see their tiny little bodies with the backpacks bigger than them crossing the street on the first day of kindergarten. The same street that their cars are now parked on. Their cars…how strange that sounds.

And I watch you fade into the building with the world at your feet, and I know today is the beginning of something truly amazing – because you, dear Ian, are embarking on your path to freedom.

In my rear view mirror,  I see all of the people who have come and gone before you; myself included, and I know that all will turn out exactly as it’s intended, and I am home once again.

Now, go, be amazing all of you! I’ll be waiting when you’re ready to share!