We’re in single digits now. That is, number of days until we move my girl into her dorm room. Throughout her senior year, I teared up (sometimes outright cried) at all the “lasts.” Her last fall drama. Her last high school musical. Her last Prom. Her last Spanish Club meeting. Her last last day of high school.
Then came graduation. That was a crazy tough one for me. I was bursting with pride when she climbed the stage, her gown adorned with honor cords and medals. She did us and herself proud. I swore I could still see the bouncing toddler who never left my side and wanted to scoop her up and run away from all this growing up stuff and slow it all down.