At 17 & a half, my son has saved up enough to buy the phone of his dreams, including a protective case and a wireless charger and his very first personal number, lending, I can see, a sweet sense of sovereignty, once solely gained by having a car, and costing him almost as much as an early clunker, but taking him nowhere while connecting him to everything.
the firsts of the lasts…
I didn’t have time to really think about the fact that tonight was my last parent-teacher conference, ever.
And to bring it full circle, the very last of tonight’s meetings was with with his collegiate sociology teacher who also happens to be his… father.
While more than a dozen years ago, his earliest conferences in preschool and kindergarten included me, his mother, as parent and teacher.
Spring Break
At 22, he’ll still fight me over meal contributions (dishes & the like), and it is this ordinariness in which I most delight–this sharing of home–particularly now that he resides elsewhere; a fact my heart refuses to assimilate.
The Empty Nest Diary 