Our second oldest kid turned 24 on Derby Day. The next day he ran the Cincinnati Flying Pig half-marathon.
I went to three different spots along the route to cheer him on.
At Mile 3, when the runners come back into Ohio from Kentucky… didn’t see him.
At Mile 4, when the route takes them back into downtown… couldn’t spot him there either.
Finally, at Mile 8, I caught sight of him as he was rounding a turn past Eden Park. A quick shout-out from me, a brief smile and nod of acknowledgement from him, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
He’s 24. He’s off and running. All of our kids are. Our oldest will be moving out soon. Our daughter is renting an apartment in Clifton, near school, while she takes summer classes. Our youngest will be home from Indiana U. soon, but he’ll be off with his friends most of the summer.
Our son’s pace quickened in the second half of the race.
I know the feeling. Ferris Bueller taught me well.
It’s their race now. I’m just a spectator. Hoping to catch an occasional glimpse, a brief smile, a nod of acknowledgement.
Before they’re gone. Before I’m gone.
Seems like I was just a kid not so long ago
There were so many arrivals, so many hellos
Now my time behind is greater than my time ahead
Save up the minutes like flowers before all they’re dead and gone…
“All Be Gone” by Buffalo Tom
You done said…