Best. Review. Ever.

I have written and published four books since 2014. They are categorized as Women’s Fiction, which is defined as stories about women on the brink of life change and personal growth.

Both Sides of Love explores the beauty of true friendship and the ideals of love that last forever.

The Fabric of Us puts a loving thirty-year marriage to the ultimate test.

In Seasons Out of Time, we take a journey with a woman approaching middle age, who finds herself and learns to live, with the help of a younger man.

And then there is Letting Go. The first novel I ever wrote. Inspired by my ever-present fear of leaving my sons, I put pen to paper and wrote a cathartic tale that imagines the possibility that we will never leave our loved ones.

Written in 2010, when the boys were young. It sat in a drawer for a few years until I found the courage to re-write it and put it out into the world. If it never sells another copy, I am most proud of that work.

Why am I telling you this now?

Well. My older son is twenty-four, works full-time, travels and is on his way to a life that doesn’t revolve around his parents. (Pause for gut-wrenching sigh). As much as we tried while he was young, reading stories to him every day for years, he is not a reader. He and his brother know I write, they see my books on the shelves and are super-supportive sharing my successes and failures, but never showed more than a kind, passing interest in the content.

On our recent Christmas break, my son pulled a book from our full shelves and brought it with him back to his apartment to read, as part of a resolution his girlfriend suggested they try. He chose Letting Go. A few weeks later, I received a text.

Been reading every night. Damn near cried twice.

Two weeks later, another text:

Ma, excellent book. Couldn’t put it down. Reaching the last chapters.

Don’t know how it doesn’t have 100,000 purchases.

He came to visit after he finished. We talked about the story. He was engaged and enthusiastic and my heart swelled when he concluded that he loved it.

A full circle moment for me. It’s the best review I’ve ever received.

Full Circle

Well, the sun has set on another season.

It was especially tough to see this summer end. Not because we enjoyed better-than- average weather, or took two wonderful family trips, using passports for both (a first!) or because we spent a lot of time with our family and friends who continually make our lives richer. No. This year marks my older son’s last year of high school. The last year he’ll wake up in his bed, eat breakfast at my table, say goodbye in the morning where I’ll wish him a good day and wait for him to come home. Or see his hockey games or watch him perform during the half time shows on football fields, or attend his concerts. His last year before leaving for college, altering our family dynamic forever.

I am not the only parent of a high school senior. I know that. My sentiments aren’t my own. They’re shared by parents of seniors everywhere. But he is my son. My pride. My heart, who walks out the door every single day, and makes me smile when he walks back in.

This year will be a year of lasts, full of bittersweet endings, emotional moments (for me) and exciting plans (for him).

Thirty years ago, 1986, I graduated high school. I forged ahead full speed, shrugging out of my gown, tossing my tassled cap, seeing only my future, my friends, my summer job. I ran to college, not giving any thought whatsoever to how fast I’d grown and how my own mother must have been feeling what I’m feeling this week.

This month, I will be attending my high school reunion. While my child embarks on his final year, I will be rekindling my own memories. He’ll be doing his Social Studies homework while I will be catching up with classmates who sat next to me in my Social Studies classes.

I will enjoy one night with the people who spent every day with me during my formative years, who were in my life before it became laden with responsibility and stress and commitment. When the future was so bright, we had to wear shades. I will embrace lost friends who got away simply because life got too busy, the people who knew me before I knew myself, who knew me when I was young, inexperienced, a dreamer.

Then, I will put down my empty glass, dry my laughing tears. and bid so long to these old friends. I’ll return to my 48-year-old life (I cannot be 48), to stand by my son as he gets ready to embark on his future, to make his own way in the world. I’ll try like hell to remember who I was at seventeen, how I felt, and let him go.