There’s something about senior year that sneaks up on you.
You know it’s coming. You’ve known for years, really. But knowing something intellectually and feeling it in your heart are two very different things. And when you’re the mom of a senior, the end of the school year starts to feel like a clock quietly ticking down.
Every week seems to hold another “last.”
The last first day of school.
The last football game under the Friday night lights.
The last team dinners, the last assemblies, the last finals week.
You watch your child move through these moments, checking them off one by one, and you feel two things at the same time: overwhelming pride and a quiet ache you didn’t expect to be quite so strong.
Because how are we here already?
Wasn’t it just yesterday that Devin was little enough that I had to tie his shoes? When packing snacks for games meant juice boxes and orange slices instead of protein bars and energy drinks? When practices required a parent to drive him there and sit on the sidelines waiting?
Now he gets himself where he needs to go.
He manages his own schedule.
He’s making plans for his future.
And somehow, somewhere in between all those ordinary days of school drop-offs, sports practices, and family dinners, my little boy turned into a young man who is about to graduate.
People always say time flies.
It sounds like one of those things adults tell you when your kids are little and you’re too busy keeping up with the chaos of everyday life to really think about it. Back then, the days could feel long—homework, practices, laundry, dinners, alarms going off early the next morning.
But the years?
The years are what flew.
One minute you’re tying tiny cleats by the door and making sure they remembered their water bottle. The next, you’re watching them step into adulthood, realizing that the seasons you once thought would last forever were actually passing one by one.
Right now we’re standing in that strange in-between place.
Devin has already turned eighteen. That alone feels surreal. Legally an adult, yet still the same kid who’s been running through our house for the past eighteen years.
Graduation is just ahead of us, even if we haven’t quite reached the moment yet. I’ve seen the cap and gown pictures. I’ve seen the countdowns. But the actual walk across the stage is still waiting somewhere in the near future.
And I know when it happens, it will feel both exactly right and impossibly fast.
I’m not sure a parent’s heart ever makes it through these transitions completely unscathed. Watching your child grow up is beautiful, but it’s also a series of quiet goodbyes to the versions of them you once knew.
The little boy with the tiny shoes.
The middle schooler figuring things out.
The high school athlete heading out the door with cleats and gear.
But what replaces those moments is something just as meaningful: the chance to watch them spread their wings.
Devin is stepping into a whole new chapter. College, soccer, independence, responsibility—all the things we’ve been preparing him for all these years.
And while there’s definitely a lump in my throat when I think about how quickly we arrived here, there’s something even stronger than that feeling.
Pride.
The kind of pride that makes every early morning practice, every late-night homework session, every long season of parenting worth it.
So here we are, just a few weeks away from graduation. Standing right at the edge of one season and the beginning of another.
And even though part of me wishes time would slow down just a little…
I can’t wait to see where his wings take him.
