Moving Day

Sunday morning, I got J.P. up and asked him where he wanted to go for breakfast.  Predictably, he said, "Bongo, Dada."  A few minutes later, after I got him dressed and packed a small cooler with his breakfast, off we went.

After breakfast, we walked across Belmont Boulevard and onto Belmont University's campus.  I was pushing the stroller and holding J.P.'s hand, as he walked beside me.  Or, as he would describe it, "J.P. walk by himself."  The campus was humming with activity, as freshman were moving into the dorms all weekend long.  Everywhere I looked, I saw parents walking with their 17 or 18 year old sons and daughters, looking confused, frightened, intimidated and perplexed.  And that was the parents, not the kids.

As J.P. and I walked down a wheelchair ramp, into the courtyard by the bell tower, J.P came face to face with a middle aged man holding a cup of coffee, leaning up against the rail of the ramp.  The man had a contemplative look on his face, seemingly lost in his thoughts.  J.P. walked right up to him and interrupted his reverie, saying "hi," and waving to him.  The man smiled back at J.P., then said he was waiting for his daughter.

"I bet you were wondering how you got from here (pointing at J.P. and me) to where you are this morning," I said.  "Actually, that's exactly what I was thinking," he replied.  It was a pretty cool moment and yet another reminder of how quickly time passes.