I’m sentimental. I am as sentimental as they come. I have boxes of scrapbooks from when I was a teenager. I keep photos, tickets, playbills, and anything that brings back a great memory. Recently, my 50-year-old brain can not handle as much stuff, so I am going through and getting rid of things that probably don’t need to stay. One of those boxes contained my sons k-12 school materials. Yep. I keep that stuff too. (I don’t keep every assignment and spelling test, only artwork, and special things). I painfully went through each item and got rid of things that didn’t need to stay. I cried through every moment. This post is to my son. I’m sorry I’m so sentimental.

To my son,

The time has come for you to go away to school, and start figuring out what kind of adult you are going to be. I don’t like it. You have always been my little shadow. I’m sentimental. When you drank your bottles, you would touch my hair and curl it between your fingers. It was our “moment” together. You didn’t like when Nana would feed you and her hair didn’t curl like mine.

I can remember dropping you off at your first day of preschool, and you banging on the windows, begging me not to leave you there. I cried all the way home. I’m sentimental. Your first day of Kindergarten, I left to go to a parent meeting in the gym, and you said, “I’m going with you.” I told you, you had to stay, and your face made me cry like a baby. (only after I left the gym area) In middle school, I took pictures at everything you did. The last day of Middle school, I jumped out to take your picture of you getting on the bus to Cedar Point, and you said, “MOM…please!!! No pictures.” I dropped you off and left with a few tears. I’m sentimental. In High School, you let me take lots of photos, and I lived through you. I took so many soccer pictures and got photos of every event I could. I don’t think you know that I have 20,000 photos on my computer. I’m so sentimental.

You have endured a lot as a kid. Being brother to a special needs sister is not easy. You listened to a lot of screaming, and a lot of things that were not “normal.” You would hide in your room and cry in the beginning. It broke my heart and I tried to protect you from that. Eventually, you got used to it, as best you could.

Now, you are a man (sort of). You are figuring out life and what you want. It’s time for you to go off and live. You have done amazing things, and there is more to come. Your whole family is proud of you for what you have done. Go do great things.

I’m sentimental.

I’ll stop crying now. (maybe)