Today, Stretch turns 17.
God in Heaven.
Sunday, he graduates high school. That’s another post for another day (to be written embracing a box of Kleenex).
Here’s the deal, kid: how about considering not going to college? How about staying home? You know, with me?
(You will be with your other family members, too, of course…)
When you skipped kindergarten, middle school seemed a million years away. High school? An eternity.
Now, we looking at you moving off to school in a few short months at 17 years-old.
Sure, I could have, I should have seen this coming. But, the years, man, they travel fast.
One day you’d be 3 and you’d tumble down the stairs toward the unfinished, hard concrete floor. I’d skid across four feet to catch you averting which would certainly have been a sickening splat. “Save, Roy!” the contractor who was working on finishing the basement would yell.
The next day you’d be 11 and you’d run across a soccer field, then face plant from the slightest contact of an opposing player, illustrating to all that you’d perfected the art of faking an injury. Watching you writhe and contort on the ground on a weekly basis? Well, there were worse ways to spend Saturday mornings.
A week later, you’d be 13 and you’d be a freshman in high school. You’d make the basketball (B) team, but miss out on your first love, the baseball team.You’d find new dreams to follow.
Then, you’d be 16, and you’d talk about your hopes for becoming a leader for retreats and freshman orientations during your senior year. I would think, they’d be crazy not to have a kid like you as a leader of younger men. They weren’t crazy. You were chosen for leadership.
And then you’d be 17. Today.
Your step-mother and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Your sister couldn’t love you more. Your bonus-brother couldn’t be more interested in where your life will take you.
But I have an idea: stay home. Don’t go to college. I’m going to miss you too much.