Awake at the crack of dawn with excitement and anticipation.
I can still see his red uniform shirt tucked tightly into his starchy creased navy shorts with the backpack snuggly on his proud tall shoulders.
His toothless grin said it all.
I tied his fresh-out-of-the-box bright white tennis shoes in double knots. I walked him to the kindergarten door and kissed him goodbye.
My misty eyes said it all.
High school teenager.
Rolled out of bed late. Nervous with uncertainty and insecurities.
Crumpled baseball jersey and camouflage shorts to make certain he doesn't appear to have tried too hard.
"I can wait for the bus by myself, mom," he said with an eye roll.
"Good luck", I said, as I wistfully walked back to the house.
I peeked from the inside corner of the window as he waited for his first bus. I watched as he apprehensively walked down the aisle of the bus with all of the new faces sizing him up.
He caught me spying. He turned his head abruptly the other way to avoid making eye contact with me.
I miss tying his shoes, spit wiping the cereal from the the corner of his mouth, and combing his hair down with my fingers.
But mostly, I miss kissing him goodbye.
It's been an emotional day- go read some of my lighter side at my other home, Aiming Low, today.