The other day, I was running round doing errands on a rare day off and I happened to drive past the park where my son spent six wonderful years playing little league.
As I looked over, I remember dozens of days watching him play baseball, chatting with the other parents. I remembered how as each season progressed, he became closer to his teammates and, while happy my ex and I were there watching the games, it was more and more his own thing; he and his teammates talked about the bats they used, stances and other fine points of the game.
In a few weeks, he turns 18-- a legal adult. A few months after that, he's going off to college.
I remember being the most scared guy in the world the first time I picked him up after his birth. I couldn't believe I was responsible for this little guy for the next 18 years. That time seemed a million years away. And now it's nearly here.
When did that happen?