Today Chandler goes back to school. Graham starts his classes tomorrow. I am wondering not so much where the summer went, but where the years have gone.
I always get a little nostalgic this time of year, unable to relate to the moms who kick up their heels as their kids board the bus.
And my boys--neither one have ever looked back from a classroom with longing eyes. No, more often than not, they have had to gently shoo me from their sides on the first day of school. They, like their parents, are the independent type. Capable. Strong.
Still, the moment always feels monumental: The First Day of School. A new chapter. A fresh start. Stiff blue jeans. Shiny sneakers. Pencils that have never been sharpened. Anticipation so thick you can cut it with a fork.
It turns me into a puddle.
I realize that my days are numbered, and I cannot stop the relentless passing of time. With both boys in high school I am painfully aware of the fact that it is the beginning of the end. And that fact makes me hugely grateful and profoundly sad.
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