In late August of this year, Kyle will move into college. My younger stepson usually spends one week with us, and one week with his mom on an alternating schedule. Dinner plans are relatively static. He's with us for dinner on Mondays and Wednesdays regardless of the week, barring circumstances that necessitate changing this schedule on the fly.
My elder stepson (Brady) has been effectively gone from our house for five years. I cried at his High School graduation party, and I anticipate doing so at Kyle's party as well. It is right that children grow up and leave the home to experience life and new adventures. Since I've really only known my boys since they were 10 and 15 years of age (respectively), it's just so hard to let go.
Kyle will graduate from High School in three weeks. He'll move into college at the end of the summer. Brady will return to his graduate studies in Binghamton after a wonderful summer in Pennsylvania. The house will be empty. Our house. Our little family's house. This is the house that the boys grew up in, that I was happy to move into and join as the newest member of our unit in 2009. The swing set is gone from the backyard, the bag of outdoor toys gathering dust in our basement. The leftover decorations from past birthday celebrations are up in the attic.
No one is perfect--no adult, no teen, no child, no babe in arms. Everyone tries their best and muddles through situations as they arise. The crux of the matter for me (the matter of life, I guess) is that I've only known my boys (really known them) for eight years. I've been a part of their family for seven years. Such a wonderful part of my life is winding down. I suppose that I'm as ready as I will ever be. As a friend once said, "How wonderful that you feel this way about the children in your life. Not every stepparent or stepchild is so lucky."
How true.
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