But the story was real and so close to me. It was a story between my child’s journey from high school to college. Now he’s about to leave college. How quickly four years goes by. He’s a man, not the teenager, who caused his mother to explain how to empty the trash one more time, who told his mother she was doing it wrong when she dared to do so.
Past that door is a pile of memories and pictures, images in my mind of a child growing, laughing, crying with the frustration of meeting the world head on. Head on is how he challenged everything he met. Head on he made his way with his heart on his sleeve, under a cuff of bashfulness. Head on he went, as if he knew one day he would be taller than his mom by an inch. Every memory tells that story bit by bit, tear by tear, smile by smile.
We wrote it together as a family.
Looking at that picture brings it all home to me.
−me strauss Letting me be