For the first time in more than 25 years I approach the start of the school year without a student in my household. I’ve bought not a single backpack or pencil; no torrid visits to sporting goods stores or angst-filled purchases of extra long sheets. This fall I will read the new books and wear the new shoes myself.
I miss the excitement, but not the expenses; the anticipation, if not the anxiety. Most of all I miss the kids who brought that welter of feelings as I think of them with joy and wonder in the beautiful, accomplished adults they have become.