A High Perch and Even Higher Hopes
"I cried off and on all the way home." My mother told me this piece of information a few years ago. Her tears came after she and my dad had dropped me off in Morris, Minnesota, where I began my freshmen year of college in 1985. My own sadness was momentary, of course, as I was about to embark on a fantastic four years of freedom, fun and friendship. Fast forward 28 years from that late September day and press Play . . . again. My son left for Boston University one week ago. For most of this summer my thoughts of his looming departure bounced back and forth between excitement and concern - excited for him to begin this next chapter of his life, but understandable concern for his safety, health and well-being so far away from home. Sure, I also expected a measure of personal sadness, but incorrectly assumed this would center solely around his absence. Dead wrong. In the days and weeks leading up to his exodus, a noticeable a...