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I saw – in a crashing wave of memories – every just-home-from-work hug, every milestone, every success and stumble, and every iteration of a face and a smile I have seen almost every day for 18 years.
I was in the rental car, parked a block from a university we were visiting, when it hit: He’s leaving.
We had just finished lunch at a salad place off campus, me and the kid who used to detest anything that resembled a vegetable, the one who, somehow, with maddening swiftness, grew older and taller and became a most-of-the-time vegetarian.
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