His Dad has accompanied him here to settle him into his university college, and we gathered last night with some old friends for a welcome dinner. It was a night for a lot of laughter, and probably too much reminiscing from the "olds" (that's us now!) about our first year at university, where we lived, and who we flatted or studied with (and got up to no good with!). My godson is gorgeous, smart, kind hearted, generous, mature, focused and very much looking forward to his university years, as well as pretty rapt he's in a great college with a few people he knows and a bunch of strangers who will soon become friends. It is an exciting time. There was a huge buzz around the university colleges precinct yesterday as parents were dropping off their babies/young adults; as well as a buzz of a different kind around the student flatting precinct around midnight last night as the newbies and returnees cut loose prior to classes starting.
My godson's mum - my dear friend since our university days - has said goodbye to her oldest child, and I know a few tears would have been shed, and there will be a period of adjustment in her family home. On the upside, I'll probably get to see her and her husband more often, and I'll have the opportunity as godmother to have a peripheral responsibility for my godson's health and wellbeing (stocking up his snack jar and providing a Sunday night dinner every now and then!). I'll also get to go to "Scarfie" night: an annual event where some friends host a big dinner party for our friends' kids who are at university; some of the kids only know each other by name through their parents; and we get to have a night with these young people and enjoy witnessing these kids as they embark on the next stage of their life journey.
After dropping my godson off at his accommodation, and tucking my little one into bed (definitely savouring the joy of still having my child-not-yet-a-teenager to tuck in at nights), I stood at the door of Teen1's bedroom and wondered where he was and what he was doing. As a parent, I can see so much possibility ahead of T1 and my other two beautiful boys. And I wonder, as parents, do we continue to see the possibility in them no matter what their age? Is it our job, our duty, our optimism to always see the possibility and encourage them down that road; or at some stage, what stage, does the road narrow and become overgrown with a tangle of weeds and detritus.
I'm heading out for a run once I've published this post. Before I go, I know I'll walk past T1's bedroom, I'll linger in the door way for a bit, maybe I'll go in and straighten the pillows, run my hand over the quilt, and I'll wonder again where he is right now, where he slept last night, who the adults are in the house where he's crashed and if they've given a thought to him having a parent who cares and is bereft he's not at home in his own bed. In my mind's eye, I'll still look down that beautiful yellow brick road of possibility for all the things he may do and be, and I will continue to hope that he will look up one day and see the same wide road full of his own dreams and aspirations and possibilities ahead of him. And follow it.
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