Today is a day full of wide-ranging thoughts and complicated emotions.  I am flying to Seattle to join my son for his graduation from college.  I am traveling with his Dad, younger sister, and brother.  That in itself raises a plethora of emotion.  One family unit but each individual bringing a very different version of that family with them.

The irony of this trip is not lost on me.  The emotions we are carrying are many.  There is an abundance of love within each of us for the other.  Each different and also somehow the same.  A parent’s love for their children.  A child’s love for their parents and for each other.  There is disappointment for the way that some circumstances within our family have evolved.  There is anxiety or maybe just anticipation for the coming events.  There is a wistful sadness for a time when this particular family unit was different.  There is likely some anger within one or another of us – maybe all.  And for some of the Karens, there is fear of all sorts of things.  Like not being able to step up and be here now, putting all other emotions aside, or the paralysis that certain overwhelming emotions will undoubtedly bring.

I can see that we are all lost in our own thoughts during this 6-hour flight.  For me, I am immediately reminded of the other trips I made to this college.  The first to visit it with my son.  That was the first time I saw him in action as a young adult.  He was ready to embark on the college journey and it was clear that I was not allowed to join him on the ride.  I don’t mean this to be a bad thing.  It was a natural progression of life that simply meant “this is now my time”.

I remember watching him meet the young man who would be his roommate and first college friend.  One who would continue to be one of his closest buddies throughout.

The next trip was to move him in.  My two favorite memories of this are trying to load all the Bed, Bath and Beyond loot into our small rental car.  There is a great photo of him standing outside the overpacked tiny sedan.
The other memory is my final drive away from the campus, leaving him to start his new adventure.  Him waving goodbye and me trying my hardest to keep my shit together until I was out of range.

There is actually another one one that I will most certainly never forget.  When I made the plane reservations I bought 2 round trip tickets – not remembering that I’d be only 1 on the way back.  As I sat in my seat, the flight attendant announced: “Is there a Jacob Webb on the flight?”   I thought I was going to vomit as I realized what I had done and why the seat beside me was empty.  Another glaring indication of our new lives.

So today as we fly to see him receive the culmination of all his hard work, I am filled with pride and love and not just a little melancholy.

As I sit on the plane these things circle around in my mind like a cyclone.  At the same time, up here at whatever frighteningly high altitude we happen to have reached now, I feel like the cyclone is manageable.  Almost like it might stay up here when we land and my shit will actually be together on the ground.  Or that it is somehow part of a movie and not part of what my smart brain knows is my real life.  It is in many ways absolutely surreal to be making this trip.

The event we are approaching and all that it embodies is one thread in my tapestry that I hadn’t really thought much about until now – not seriously.  It is a thread that I wove in 22 years ago and that has been sparkling ever since.   At the end of this trip, as we fly home it will be knotted in some small way.  It will, of course, remain as one of the most important facets of my life and will probably change color, direction, and density as I go.  It will likely be joined by another thread, or more, at some point but I really, REALLY CANNOT go THERE now . . . .

All of this is surrounded by the reminder that life is fleeting.  So much happens to us in our complicated lives.  As it is happening you think that time is dragging along and that these major crossroads and accomplishments will never come.  At the same time, it all happens in a minute.  All of a sudden everything is dramatically different and you wonder how yesterday he was wearing his Batman costume in the grocery store and today it’s a cap and gown he is sporting proudly across the stage, past the podium to shake hands with his Dean and receive his diploma.

The passage of time is amazingly swift, with events occurring at lightning speed, some purposeful and some not.  No matter the substance, they are fleet of foot.  I am reminded of Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle.  A cliche I know – a big one so just suck it up, forgive me and read on.  He was really onto something.  If only we could save time in special bottles – bottles we could open again and relive the wonder that sits inside just one more time.  But, of course, we can’t.  We have memories, photos, and videos that will have to suffice.

I wonder how I’ll feel on the ride back.  It is a quick weekend trip and yet so much will have happened.  I hope I remember every minute, every smile, every overwhelming feeling of pride and, yes, every tear, put it all in a bottle that I can put on my shelf and be reminded of day after day.