I can’t quite believe that our youngest son is a high school senior, with college on the horizon and just a few more months in our city’s school system.
Sometimes, the transitions in our lives ahead become crystal clear.
Yesterday, I drove more than three hours into New York City to reach the New York Armory to see him run for less than a minute with his high school indoor track relay team at the Nike Indoor Nationals.
It seems absurd when you consider the hours of travel versus the time of running like that, and I could have watched the webcast from the comfort of home, but it was important to me, and to him, that I make the drive, to send him encouragement from the stands, to be there to support him.
In his pink shoes, at the sound of the starting gun, he was flying, going so fast from starting line to the baton handoff with his teammate that he was nearly a blur from the stands, disappearing as I tried to capture the moment on my phone while shouting encouragement.
Everything becomes metaphor at some point, doesn’t it?
Driving back home later that night (he is staying in the city with teammates, to cheer on another crew of runners who will compete today), I was complaining to myself in the car about the long drive (it was raining) but then reminding myself: hold on to these kinds of moments because they won’t be available much longer.
Peace (in the Time Passing),
PS — his Speed Medley Relay (SMR) team came in 7th place, out of 30 teams.