My son, John, just turned 21. I still can’t believe he’s reached this milestone. It just seems like yesterday we were playing wiffleball in the backyard, going to his first tee-ball game and making a diorama for his third grade class.
I used to go to his school and read to the kids in his class as some parents do. His favorites were “The Dumb Bunnies” and “Goodnight Moon.” I still have them on my bookshelf.
I look at this fine young man getting into his car to go to a college class, but I still see my little son, who’s face lit up when I first let go of his bicycle seat the day he learned how to ride a two wheeler. There are some days when I want to grab that seat again and not let go to the years that would inevitably follow.
But they have, and always will.
I could not be more proud of the young man he’s become. I came across something he wrote in his first year in high school, 9th grade. He wrote a small piece about his remembrances of his first day in first grade.
It touches me every time I read it. I thought I would share it with you, in his voice, my 21 year-old son… but I also hear his voice when he was only 6.
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