Letter from a Melancholy Land

Sometimes a small, everyday moment takes on special significance.

For me that usually happens after the moment has passed. For instance, a phone call with my father ended up being the last time I ever spoke with him.

Not all of those everyday moments have to be sad; sometimes they’re happy ones, like when something wonderful or funny happens when you’re engaged in day-to-day tasks.

Today when I went in to wake up my oldest for school it was both sad and wonderful because it was the last time I’d ever be telling him to get up for high school. From this point on, high school’s in his rear view mirror.

What an odd sensation. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. A phase of his life, and mine, is over. I’d never realized that I enjoyed walking in  to wake him up and now I think I’m going to miss it. I hadn’t thought about it until the moment I told him good morning, and I’m melancholy — yet I’m also pleased, and proud of him. He’s nearly ready to spread wings and leave the nest.

The older I get, the faster it all seems to happen…