Another time to let your kids fly

There's a sign on the back of the laundry room door that leads to the garage. "Don't forget your lunch," it says. It's been there so long I don't notice it anymore.

I can take it down, now, I suppose. The child who put it there -- a young woman, really, though still my child -- doesn't need the reminder anymore. After 12 years of bagels and peanut butter sandwiches, Cheetos and chips, the school lunch bag is officially closed.

She graduates from high school Sunday.

It's one of those concrete reminders -- as though I need one! -- that life is about to change once again. This is the second time I've done this. And though that makes the process and the emotions somewhat familiar, it doesn't make the moment any less bittersweet.

My daughter was making her lunch Tuesday. "Second to last lunch," I remarked to her. The next day would be the final lunch, the final actual day of school. "Less than 48 hours," I said to her. (And, yes, I was probably driving her crazy, as the moment is even more momentous to these incipient graduates, about to step off into an uncertain adult future.)

So many "lasts" are now over for the senior parents: last homecoming, last football game, last band concert, last choir appearance, last track meet or baseball game, last set of finals, last dance, last lunch. The clock has been ticking away all year, accelerating to breakneck pace recently as we count down to the end of not just a school year, but our children's time in the Geneva school system.

I've thought frequently these past weeks of the families we started this school adventure with. Lo those many years ago, my oldest daughter became friends with a number of girls who had siblings -- nearly all of them brothers, curiously enough -- two years younger. In lockstep, we went through those grade school years together. With a third child, my husband and I waved "see you later" as these families left first grade school and then middle school behind.

And now, all those other families, the ones we've seen on Tri-City soccer fields, in the Harrison gym, at middle school concerts or plays, at Geneva High School concerts, plays and other events, they're all graduating Sunday. They're done.

All I can say is, I'm sure glad we had a third child. We'll still be part of things.

Because no matter what your child was involved in, by extension it became part of your life as well. The child who was involved in the school's television studio brought his or her parents into the booth, so to speak. Involved in culinary arts? That parent learned to appreciate what went on in the kitchen. Student government? Family members found out what was going on behind the scenes. Yearbook? A parent might gain a real appreciation for deadline pressures. For some families, that involvement is over. For those with younger children, our connection goes on.

I was remembering those earlier years at the recent Senior Awards Night. I didn't know all of the kids being honored, by any means. But I knew a fair number. And as I watched them on the stage, receiving an award or scholarship for this or being honored for that, it was easy not only to remember the child we'd known but also to be very proud of the young adults they've become.

We've worked hard to get them to this launching pad and I think we all can't help but be pleased to see them ready to take that next step, whatever that step is.

I'm choosing not to think about our family's next step, three months from now, when we say goodbye to her in her dorm room at Marquette University in Milwaukee. One milestone at a time, I think, knowing it will be more difficult to have two fewer faces around the table than one. (And believe me, that third child? She's probably not thinking about it either. She knows increased parental attention is on the horizon and regards it as a decidedly mixed situation.)

In the inevitable sorting through of memories these past weeks, I keep remembering a particular picture. My daughter was probably 7 or 8 and the reason for the photo is that we're dressed, highly coincidentally, alike: both in black overalls and red turtlenecks. I tower over her.

At prom, recently, someone took a picture of the two of us. Now, I'm only 5' 2" to start with, and she's nearly 5' 8." Add to that the 4-inch heels she was wearing and, believe me, the towering is on the other foot and has been for many a year.

But those two photographs sure provided a reference point for the passing of the years, a poignant reminder that things change, time marches on.

Two years ago, I wrote a column as my eldest child graduated form high school. In it, I mentioned how after a gathering of 'graduating" parents, I'd found myself with the song "Time for Me to Fly" running through my head.

As I said then, it is indeed time for these young people of ours to fly, to the future, to this new and exciting chapter of their lives. And it's time for us to stand back as they take off, providing a more secondary role than in the past, and hoping that the foundation of that past will provide support and strength in their future.

And we'll still keep the light on for their return.

Years of growth have led to this moment

When I was in elementary school, the years seemed to go by so slowly. I remember thinking in second grade I still had 10 more years until I was as old as my favorite babysitter. As soon as elementary school is over though, the years go by in the blink of an eye. Middle school was a mere speed bump on the road to high school. And once freshman year starts, it is full speed ahead to graduation.

And now here I am. The realization I will soon be done with school in Geneva has not hit me yet. As I sit here writing this on a rainy Monday evening, I still do not think of Wednesday as my last day of high school. We all reference it, and acknowledge the end is finally here, but I do not think any of us have really thought about it, thought about our friends in lower grades whom we will leave behind next year, thought about some of our most beloved teachers who will not have another opportunity to share their wisdom with us, thought about all the things we have done for the last time in high school.

In a way, the end of high school has increased my sense of denial. As excited as I am to start this new chapter in my life, I do not want to think about everything I will be leaving behind as graduation draws nearer every day. Next year my two best friends and I will all be in different states. The rest of my classmates are scattered hither and yon with some landing in Connecticut, others ending up all the way in California. Most of us will never see each other again, except for the odd reunion here or there, and that is a little frightening. I have been going to school with some of these people since I was 3 years old.

We have all had our fair share of high school drama, but the things that I remember most are all of the good times. Sure there was the occasional failed chemistry test or a big blow-up with my friends, but even more there were the trips to Disney World, long weekends, and memorable movie nights. There have been numerous school dances, fascinating field trips, and a plethora of choir concerts, and those are my most cherished memories of high school.

When I was making the famed "senior scrapbook" earlier this year for English IV, I stumbled across old pictures from elementary school and middle school and I realized how much I have grown as a person. I spent high school finding a new facet of me. I found confidence in the height I used to hate, I found grace and laughter in my more awkward moments (believe me, they are numerous), and I found great friends that constantly stand by me. And really, what more can we ask for? We have all matured and grown in these last four years and it has been interesting watching the changes, even if we do not see them ourselves.

So goodbye Geneva. It's been great.