School days. Here we go. Lunches are packed. Clothes are laid out. Supplies are in tow. It’s the first day of school in a new school for the grand kids. Their mom and I were granted permission last night to walk with them. The youngest, the boy, has allowed that his mom can walk him to class. The oldest, the girl, will have none of that because she’s in the fourth grade, and mom’s are for little kids.

I don’t remember any first days of school for my kids, and we had three. I know there’s a picture or two because I’ve seen them. But my participation as a working dad was to do just that, work. I was almost always gone by the time everyone got up. I did get to drive my oldest to high school for a bit when he attended a school close to my work. And I drove the two youngest to school on occasion. It was nice. But the day-to-day go to school person was my late wife. She would have loved being here today.

And now I don’t really know where I’m going with this. My school days were mostly a blur. Multiple schools in multiple states with multiple teachers. The high school years are the one I remember best. They were the most impactful. It started with two years of seminary in Virginia, mind blowing, and ended with a year and a half at Memorial High in Houston where I launched my journalism career and met friends I still call friends. And now I’m helping two new little ones launch out into the world. Seems a good closing of the circle. School days, again.