One of my favorite books is called I'll Love You Forever. It's a children's book about a mother's affection for her child. Every night she goes into his room and recites this little poem...
I'll love you forever
I'll like you always
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
As her son grows up, she is seen sneaking into his room at night while he sleeps, scooping him up and reciting her little mantra. Even when he reaches adulthood and is living across town, the stooped, little old lady drives over, gets a ladder, crawls into his window, pulls him onto her lap and repeats her little ditty.
If you think it sounds a little creepy, you should read the book. It's not.
I'm not going to say any more, I'd hate to ruin the ending for you. But let me tell you something...
I can totally understand where that fictitious mama is coming from.
In a little over a week, I'll be watching my son graduate from college. It feels like the end of an era. Something about the last kid...the youngest kid, being done with something so big...it makes me misty. Or weepy, depending on my location.
I've loved being a part of my kids' education. The pressure of their homework wasn't necessarily my favorite thing, but editing papers, checking math pages, quizzing spelling words...I liked it all. From college they often emailed me papers to edit. This past year, my son has written a column for his university newspaper. I've really enjoyed reading his rough drafts and appreciate the fact that he still values my red pen. I don't need it much, though.
Both my kids will have degrees in communications. They excel at getting their point across.
I shed a few tears when my oldest received her university diploma, so I'm sure there will be plenty for my youngest. Maybe I'll convince him to keep writing papers for me to edit.
That would be so much easier than hauling a ladder all the way to Oregon.