The Night Before

It’s the night before we take our fourth child to the campus of his college.

Or is it the night before our fourth son embarks on his college journey?

Both are true. The first is about me and how I’m feeling. The other is about him.

Same space of time. Same people in the house. Such different activity.

I’m doing very basic things like saying, “Let me know if you need assistance with anything on your list,” washing dishes. humming quietly to myself, praying for those little things, against the bigger things. All things he probably doesn’t know to pray about. How could he know? He’s primarily lived in the safety of these four walls (and the four walls in the other house).

He’s looking for random things, still trying to finish thank you cards (seriously, how does it take all summer?!), sitting at the keyboard and playing a little (I’m assuming to calm his nerves), and going into the kitchen to munch on snacks even though he’s not hungry.

This is #4. My fourth child and my fourth son. The hardest pregnancy, but the easiest delivery. The one who hugged me the most in childhood and glares at me now if I suggest a side hug. The one who faced life and death questions way too early for any life. The one who is steadfast and curious, inquisitive, and unbelievably service-minded. His temperament in the early years indicated he would be my easiest teen. He was the most difficult, not because of who he was, but because he was so much like me, I had (have) a lot of growing to do. I think we’re both be better off for it!

I don’t want to go to sleep. Cause it means morning will come. And then he’ll go. Flip side: I race to sleep. Morning comes, and I can celebrate him into the next season.

Maybe it’s the night before I get a hug. Here’s hopin’!