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Rites of passage.

About a week or so ago, I was at a district meeting. One of the huge perks of these meetings¬†is sometimes the group will get to go eat lunch like grownups. Nothing in styrofoam. No plastic cutlery. Real plates, filled water glasses, napkins, and hot food. There’s a Thai place we frequent: service is fast, it’s delicious, and reasonable prices. It harkins me back to my days working in pharmaceutical marketing, when I made as much as I do now, and traveled the country and the world. In fact, it was on one of these business trips that I met my husband, but that is a story for another time.

While waiting for our food, my high-school counterpart mentioned the last Harry Potter movie coming out. I began this series with my older son, and mentioned that I had asked him if he wanted to see the last movie together on its opening day. As the words were leaving my mouth, I burst into tears (getting teary writing this! EEEK!). He is far away¬†from nest-flight, but still…so it begins. So it begins.

And I cried, I am sure, because I know what happens. I know how JK Rowling concludes this epic. I am not sure if she made these harsh choices years in advance, or just got mad or tired toward the end, like a horse seeing the barn, racing toward this end.

Yesterday I accompanied the 8th grade students to the high school. I felt like a returning celebrity: enthusiastic greetings of, “MRS. LOVE!” and lots of hugs and hellos from former students. Many of whom I honestly didn’t recognize. The evolution from a middle school child to young adult is staggering. Who were these people? There were still some shy smiles behind the older faces.

I can still see the little boys in my sons’ eyes. They are both taller than I am now. One has been shaving since 13 (no joke). I will keep this in mind when we start next year: these students are somebody’s child.

Oh, would someone please send me a box of Kleenex before the last day?

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