I don’t remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he get to be so tall?
Wasn’t it yesterday
When they were small?
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
—From Fiddler on the Roof, lyrics by Sheldon Harnick
My daughter and youngest child, Alex, graduated from high school Saturday. My Sunrise Socks were finished a few days days ago, and were just the right thing to wear.
This is now a season of last and first things: last high school play, last time getting up to make a 7:30 class, last day of school, last child getting ready to leave home: in September, the first time with no children under my roof for weeks on end, first time in a zillion years with no parent meetings or school volunteer needs.
But perhaps not the last time for a student to hug a favorite teacher.
And why were those socks exactly the right thing to wear? Because their colors are graduated, of course.