Yes, I will cry when you leave....

It's late at night and I've got a lot on my mind. I'm trying to figure out how in the world you are going to get

an entire room full of clothes and belongings into a dorm room to be shared with a roommate.

I'm trying to figure out how in the world you are going to find your bed at night under layers of jeans and blouses and t-shirts. I'm wondering how many laundry loads of white shirts will end up pink and how long before you realize that washing machines eat socks.

And I'm trying to remember what I've told you and if you've remembered. And then I realize that the things I think you need to know are probably the things you'll forget and the phone bill will probably be evidence that reminders are just a phone call away. Then I hope the things you remember are really the most important things. Not how much soap to put in the machine or how many towels the dryer will hold but things like the red plastic bat.

You remember that fat, red plastic bat that you and your brother played with in the front yard. How your father would throw the plastic ball but just before releasing it would yell "Swing!" to give you enough time to react. By the time the ball got to you, you began to swing and almost always made contact. The ball sailed down the street and you ran, first to the sweet gum tree, then to the tire swing and finally to the water faucet. A home run every time.

And I hope you remember the rides in the back of the MGB. Two toddlers in sweaters and wool caps in the rumble seat of Dad's pride and joy.....dinners at Granma's and blowing on blades of grass in the back yard on a warm summer afternoon....tea parties at the other Granma's and dancing on the coffee table.....

I know you'll remember going to camp for the first time and writing home that you would hate me forever if I didn't come get you RIGHT NOW! I laughed and cried when I read it.

Cabbage Patch Kids and old-fashioned birthday parties at home...wonderful make-believe games with neighborhood friends under tents of sheets and old blankets on itchy Bermuda grass Soon, the hurts you experience over a skinned knee or lost dog seemed trivial in the face of a lost love or a broken friendship. A friend dies, a classmate moves, a grandparent gets cancer....relationships change.

And then the graduation caps and gowns are delivered. At school one day when the teachers are tired and the students are restless, you say you all put on the caps and paraded down the halls singing"Pomp and Circumstance" at the top of your lungs, making up words as you tripped over each other. Senior Skip Day has come and gone...announcements are mailed....prom is in the past.

You've been gone a lot lately. Senior Year. Out with friends, last dinners at familiar haunts....frantic rushing about, cramming in as many last minute memories as possible. That's okay. It helps us parents learn to let go.

You asked me if I would cry when you leave. As I sit at the computer and rush to meet a deadline, you come in and plop down in a chair and open your yearbook and read me page after page of humorous, touching and, yes, even some shocking autographs.

We've sat here together before. At 3:00 in the morning trying to finish up a paper of assignment. We've seen good times and bad times at three in the morning. Those times we won't forget.

So, yes, I will cry when you leave. But when I do, remember that I am pushing you gently into the world with sad tears and happy tears. You are my friend and you are part of me. You will take a piece of my heart with you but it will be the best part, And just so you know, my heart won't be broken for I will mend it with a piece of your heart you will leave behind.

There are so many things to remember but the important things won't be forgotten. Like red bats and plastic balls and tire swings in the front yard.

"So fast, so soon,

With eager steps they run to greet their future.

Does she hesitate? Will he look back?

Who would have imagined...where has the time gone?"