I remember this. It wasn't that long ago.
He made such good use of his years here. He grew and grew. His technical skill, his artistry, his friendships, his responsibility, his leadership. His life.
He's nineteen, and sort of fearless. Sort of. I've told him he doesn't have to support himself yet. Not til he's twenty-one. He looks at me witheringly. He's ready.
It makes me teary. It makes me happy.