I can't remember the title of the song, but that line always strikes me as incredibly poignant. It's the last line of the song, and I know it, but I can't remember the title or the artist. Wait, Google is your friend: Closing Time, by Semisonic.
I have been thinking about endings a lot lately. A friend posted a meme on FB -- you never know when it will be the last time you do something with your children. The last time they crawl into your lap, or the last time they hold your hand crossing the street. It'll be the last time, but you don't know it.
This year is my son's last year at elementary school. So many 'lasts'. Last Halloween parade and party. Last parent-teacher conference (hopefully!). Last holiday party. Last year staying at his pop-pop's before school. Later in the year it will be his last Field Day. Then graduation. I wasn't ready for it to be the last year, but here we are. Now I'm treasuring the lasts, because I KNOW they will be lasts.
How often do we get to realize in the moment that something is happening for the last time? That's a gift, really. I am dreading some lasts -- soon enough I know that it'll be the last time he wants to dress up for Halloween. We've had some real fun coming up with costumes-- Draco Malfoy, Doctor Who, Percy Jackson. This year Agent Coulson was a big hit. Eventually he'll want to go out without me trick-or-treating. And then he'll be done with it altogether. Someday soon I'll have to stop sending gifts from "Santa" -- that day is coming very soon, I think. He'll be twelve, he can't believe forever, though I'd like for him to.
Not trying to be a downer, but when you're a writer this kind of stuff gets stuck in your head.
It's not all doom and gloom. Like the song says, endings means new beginnings. Next year in middle school, he'll have all kinds of firsts. First time moving classes every period. First time coming home earlier than we do. First time using a locker (yikes!). I'm sure I'll have all kinds of new and interesting stuff to look forward to.
Meanwhile, I'll enjoy what remains of what we're doing now. Tempus fugit!