When you first have a child, everyone tells you that it goes by so quickly. And you don’t believe them. And then suddenly, your child is 18 years old and about to graduate high school.
I still have to stop for a minute when I’m informed that she has to sign something, not me, because she’s 18. I still have to PAY, lol, but I don’t have to give permission anymore. She has a job, that she’s managing to juggle with her last semester of high school. She’s a good kid. Er, adult. She’s a kind person. Usually. Don’t speak to her when she first gets up. She’s well-mannered. She has a heart of gold. She’s beautiful.
And yet it all sneaked (snuck?) up on me. It’s not like I didn’t KNOW she was almost an adult. After all, I’ve been around for every birthday. But there suddenly comes a day where you’re equal parts proud and terrified. Proud of whom she’s become. Terrified that you haven’t equipped her with the skills necessary for adult life.
In this month of lasts with high school, there are also firsts in this house. One’s graduating. One’s about to start high school. I’m not one of those people who wishes her kids were little again. God, no, I don’t want to go back to those days. I love seeing them grow up, love watching them figure out who they will be. But it all goes by so fast. There’s never enough time.