where wildly different is perfectly normal
Maybe you can go home again
Maybe you can go home again

Maybe you can go home again

A 24 hour wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am (aside: that’s a horrible phrase, WTF) college visit to my alma mater behind us, I’m exhausted. Jack liked the campus, liked the program to which he’d been admitted, even liked the older than dirt dorms. To be honest, the worst part of the whole trip was that half the way down and half the way home was bumper-to-bumper construction traffic and that takes it out of me more than anything short of mainlining straight gluten. Next week we head to the other college that has accepted him and then it’s decision time.

I just had a sudden flashback to text-blogging our family trip to Orlando a million years ago, and our middle of the night excursion to Kennedy Space Center to see a shuttle launch that ended up being scrubbed. We stayed and explored KSC in the middle of the night with so few others that it was like having it all to ourselves. The little boys on that trip are now in college or about to be and my heart explodes with love and wistfulness and anticipation for what’s next for them.

It’s also been an inhumanly long week and I’m long past exhausted and this weekend there will be more profound writings (maybe) and I’m heading to bed.

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