Damn, that was hard...

Not the last bag in the car. That was a change of clothes, toiletries, and phone charger. It wasn’t the dogs lining up for heading-out head-pats. It wasn’t hearing A-ha’s “Take On Me” muffled, but unmistakable through the roar of the early idle when the when the Bluetooth connected.

It was watching a person I love, who I raised to do the right thing and to make good choices get in the car and drive away from my home to his own for the first time.

I am so proud of my son. I’m excited for him to have his life and to live it well, with fidelity to his principles and kindness in his heart.

But watching him hit the road, truly moved out and on his own for the first time was hard.

I miss all the versions of my kid. The happy baby. The curious toddler who wanted to know how everything worked. The goofy grade-schooler who tried every sport, read every book, and still had enthusiasm for friends and family. The cantankerous tween seeing middle school through the chromebook and pajamas kaleidoscope of the pandemic. The high school years when he started to really find himself (and lost my favorite jacket).

Now there’s college classes and work schedules to juggle. A girlfriend who seems to hit all the right notes while preserving her own sense of self. A hand-me-down car with some new scratches and the smell of day-old energy drinks replacing mom’s patchouli and sandalwood air freshener.

And for the first time since I was 19 years old I don’t have a child living in my home. For nearly 30 years my life has been built around my kids. Not always perfectly (or even gracefully) but being ‘Dad’ was the foundation of my sense of self. And I know that I’m still Dad to my kids, but it’s different now. We did our job right, so they don’t NEED us. It was a successful effort at parenting.

I’ll be okay, because Mrs. Teresi and I made sure he’s okay.

But watching my son drive away was hard.

I have no idea -why- he owns that shirt, but it makes his mother nuts…