Alex in the Big Apple

My baby is moving to New York City for the spring semester and I have mixed feelings about that.

He’s 21 so I know he’s “all grown up” but he’s lived in a small town his whole life, and suddenly he seems too young to be riding the subway by himself.  He’s managed his own finances, pretty successfully for several years, but suddenly I’m worried that he’s not going to have enough money to buy groceries. I haven’t had to wake him for class since early in his high school years, but suddenly I want to hold his hand on the first day of class.

On the other hand, I’m jealous.  He’s going to be living in a community of Christian artists in the heart of New York and he’s going to go to museums, have a great studio space, and experience his first internship. He’s going to meet new people and find out that he’s capable of some pretty amazing things.

So when we drive him to Brooklyn Heights in two days, I’m going to be thinking of that day, many years ago.  You know, the day I let him go swimming in the creek the first time with his friends and no parents along…

He had a great time, and I was so proud.

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