While I was physically dropping off my 18-year old Freshman itching to hit the fraternity houses, all I could see was a little guy with blond peach-fuzz hair drawing pictures and snuggling like a champ. Likewise, returning to Virginia and observing my 15-year old harmonize with her friends and draw the audience into her character, I saw the most beautiful three year old twirling in a princess dress and smiling through her gorgeous eyes. Image after image of my children flickered as both kids appeared to transform by the second leaving me in a foggy state most of the week.

In the midst of this emotional roller coaster, I was hit square in the chest with the clearest instance of truth. Immediately after saying our goodbyes and dropping Nate off at his dorm, Christine and I returned to our hotel to wallow in our pity; far out of the sight of others. As we exited the car, I asked Christine if she had her sweater. In the midst of the commotion and excitement, she accidentally left it at the restaurant. With crocodile tears flowing down her cheeks and without skipping a beat, she faced me with the utmost intensity and asked in a panicky voice, “Did Nate take his hat?” Just hours earlier, I insisted he remove his baseball hat at the dinner table. “Yes,” I responded with a chuckle in my voice as she turned away and entered the hotel.