On the Eve of Going to College

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To my son, 18

I love him when he steps to strike the playoff-winning goal.

I love him when his room holds 9 disgusting cups and a bowl.

I love him when he hits my arm and tells a goofy tale.

I love him when his French grade hovers just above a fail.

I love him when he “later” purges items from his car.

I love him when he buys his own plane ticket, very far.

I love him when his attitude and mine don’t mesh so well.

I love him when his girlfriends’ parents like him–I can tell.

I love him when we have to go to court to make amends.

I love him when he acknowledges me to teammates and friends.

I loved his tiny baby body, eyes, neck, toes and face.

I love him all grown up & out to storm the world with grace.

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