DIANE MAKAR MURPHY Graduate: It's time to spread your wings and fly

This is a love letter to my son. Maybe the words are similar to ones you're thinking about your graduate ...
Dear Son,
Wow. Graduating! Can you imagine?
I blinked, and you went from this tiny little guy with a striped knit cap on your head, lying on my chest in the maternity ward, to a man with whiskers I have to stand on my tiptoes to hug. Who'd a thought?
You don't realize it, but for the past few months, you've missed a lot of opportunities to tease me. (And you KNOW you like doing that.) Every time I see a little boy -- in a grocery store, on a TV commercial, or riding a tricycle -- my eyes mist up and I think of you. Pretty corny, huh?
But, look, no matter how many experts and friends advise against building your life around your children, I wouldn't have done it any other way. And now, I think I will sit down and feel sorry for myself.
A great kid
You were a great kid. (In many ways, raising you was like meeting a dozen wonderful people, loving them, and watching them depart.) At 2, you were a different guy from the one you became at 3, and so on through the years.
You spoke before anyone else your age. You liked to listen to me sing (quite a feat in itself). You were my buddy on trips to the library, roller skating, bike riding, and picnics in the park. You shared your achievements and sometimes your failures.
You loved your sister as much as I did and do. You did well in school and cared about your friends (sometimes to a fault -- but you'd hear none of that!).
And as for your 17th year, when, as far as I can tell, just looking at me made you think of moldy cheese ... well, you made up for that the following year. I hesitated to hug you, and you said, "Mom, I'm 18. I can have my mom hug me in public if I want to."
As to those few times you screwed up, we needn't humiliate each other with the details. The fact is, I remember those fondly, too. After all, you had to test your wings; you'd be using them to fly away some day.
And as you take flight, one of the best journeys of my life comes to an end.
But as important, one of yours begins.
I don't have a lot of advice for you (like you'd listen to MY advice!), but I would like to suggest that one of the songs you like has it exactly right.
The real world
John Mayer sings, "I wanna run through the halls of my high school. I wanna scream at the top of my lungs. I just found out there's no such thing as the real world. Just a lie you've got to rise above."
Well, that's the absolute truth.
I've been to the Real World and this is what I know: Every bit of life is an incredible adventure.
A little guy's smiling face as he swings in the park; his tired head resting on your shoulder; his gangly arms flying while he chases a soccer ball; or his prom tuxedo may end up being among your best memories. (They're among mine.)
Like John Lennon sings in "Beautiful Boy," "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
As you go off to college, you can bet I'll be wearing sunglasses and no mascara. I'm going to miss you so much. You're irritating and exasperating (just like me), and you're responsible for most of the laughter in my days.
And I hope you don't mind if I e-mail you often to ask your opinion on things. You are the straight shooter who tells me "the way it is."
And now, I've tried so hard not to make you cringe, but I really have to. I want to write two more things. First, we've given you your roots. Now, we give you your wings. And, finally, it's time to spread them. To continue quoting John Lennon, "my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy."
Love,
Mom
murphy@vindy.com