This is the last year I’ll ever drive my oldest son to school.
It’s a long tradition that started many, many years ago when I’d take him to Mother’s Morning Out. Back then, I saw a round cherub face in my mirror. Now I see a handsome 15-year-old sitting next to me.
I hate the traffic but I do cherish the time. Time that I know I need to hang onto for dear life.
Sometimes we sit in silence. He’ll text and I’ll listen to a song on the radio. Other times, we’ll talk about our currency — things that we have in common to talk about. He and I did Paul Lacoste training last summer, so we talk about my workout and his latest run. My dad and I had UT football. Dad has dementia now so we can’t have those discussions. Like I said, I hang onto these moments with my son for dear life.
I hope he knows how much I love him. I know how much my dad loves me — even though his light is slowly flickering out. I see him light up when I walk into the door of where he lives now. I can see the love in his eyes, even when he’s struggling to remember. I have that look in my eyes when I see my son. As I do when I see his brothers.
I’ve discovered love is not guaranteed. You sometimes don’t get it from the people you should. But my boys will always get it from me. That’s a guarantee. I will be proud to be their father until the day I die — and then beyond.
This morning we talked about the one thing we truly have control about is how we respond to things. That people in situations worse than ours succeed. We spoke about why that was. And how lame it was to make excuses and blame others for your problems. He told me a few things I needed to hear. For 15, he shows flashes of brilliance.
For the next few months, we’ll drive through traffic on those mornings when he needs to go to school. He’ll be in a hurry to get to school. I’ll be trying to slow time down to a crawl.