I know it is February, but as I mentioned before, the bug knocked me out and set me back a bit.

While January is the month we remember and honor the anniversary of the bus accident, it is also a time to celebrate hope, healing, and moving forward. For me, this came in the form of a 7lb, 8oz, baby boy born on January, 23, 2002. Yes, my oldest son was born on the day before the 10-year anniversary of our bus accident. Which means, as we honored 28 years of healing this January, we also celebrated my son turning 18. He’s an adult. And, he is the same age I was when the bus accident occurred.

Right now, I am sitting at my kitchen table, and he is sitting across from me doing homework. He has no idea I am staring at him and thinking about what my life was like at 18. I was young, but thought I was old. I was naive, but thought I could do anything. I was excited to leave home, but had no idea how much I would miss my family. I was ready to go to college, but was clueless as to how much my life was about to change.

And with his upcoming departure for college, I am still clueless as to how my life is about to change. But that’s okay. At 18 years old, my son is so much like I was at his age: thinks he’s old, believes he can do anything, is excited to leave home, and is ready to go to college. Which means, no matter how smooth, or bumpy (or snowy) the path ahead, he will be fine.

(And I think he too will miss his family…)