Yesterday I attended a high school graduation . . . for my son, Cole. It was a day we had known was coming for 18 years. A day we had planned for for months. We had ordered invitations, had senior pictures taken, made plans for a big graduation party. And still, as I stood there watching him walk in to the traditional Pomp & Circumstance, it was almost like a dream. He can't be eighteen years old. He can't be graduating from high school. My little boy. But there he was, in his maroon cap and gown, with the National Honor Society sash, and Honors Diploma gold rope braid hanging down. He looked so handsome, smiling, so excited. And while I was proud beyond belief, of course there was sadness too. Excitement for him and his accomplishments, and sad because I know that adulthood brings responsibilities. Responsibilities that his dad and I have carried for him for 18 years that now, he will begin to carry.
It's not like anything really is changing immediately for him. He still went to school today . . . to work on the flat bed trailer he is finishing in Ag class. He got a nearly FULL scholarship to a local university, and will be living at home and driving to school come August. But still, he has stepped into a new phase of life. I don't know that he fully realizes it yet, but he has. Thankfully, I still have a few more years to prepare myself for the day when he REALLY is on his own. A few more years to influence him. A few more years of having him all to myself.
I am so proud.