Possible Paths

This summer will see the eighteenth birthday of my son as well as his graduation from high school. For me, those events occurred more or less back to back as well, but in reverse order. Confused? Sure you are, because this all took place thirty-five years ago. How could any of this come into sharp focus after all that time?
Well, it does. and I feel nothing but gratitude for that. It is helping me manage the ups and downs in my son's life as I recall this age from my own back pages. I sat across the table from my son at our most recent dad'n'lad dinners and listened to him describe the next few months of his life. Negotiating his date, or lack thereof, for prom stood out as big a challenge as figuring out who his roommate might be for his upcoming freshman year. The terrors and pleasures of being nearly eighteen came back to me in a rush: Every problem and each new experience was on par with the others. The thing that was coming up first was generally the one that got the most attention. There was no perspective that would eventually generate this response: "I wish I knew then what I know now." When you're almost eighteen, each day brings a new potential for drama and danger. Nothing feels impossible, but everything feels life-changing. Because it is.
My life changed a lot in those weeks between graduation and my birthday. I was preparing to shove off into the world of adulthood, or what amounted to it back then, by going away to college. Before that, I was headed to Mexico, on a trip with our high school marching band. It was a celebration in the back yard of my parents' house, that afternoon after commencement exercises. My best friend and my girlfriend were there with me as we tried not to contemplate a future that went much farther than the three weeks until my birthday. A future that included a chaperoned trip to Mexico City and Acapulco, with performances interspersed with sightseeing. As much as I might have been ignoring my possible futures, that didn't keep my girlfriend and I from imagining, as we strolled along a moonlight beach, spending the rest of my life with this person that I had known for nine months.
That's not what happened. Instead, I came back from Mexico and turned eighteen, at which point I promptly went into the cocoon of my parents' basement where I played Atari and waited for the calendar to turn to August, when I would pack the bag I got for graduation and head down to the College of Santa Fe to begin the next chapter of my life.
That chapter was never fully written. As it turned out, the big farewell party that I attended with all my pals from high school echoed the ones from my birthday and graduation. We all talked about what would be. What would be is not what was, and I came back from College of Santa Fe without ever attending a class. I didn't marry my high school sweetheart, but at least that dream lasted longer than the one about going to college in New Mexico. The woman I did marry went to college in New Mexico. She was one of those friends from high school. This past weekend, I spent some time with my best friend from high school and his wife. My wife and son came along and we spent the day alternately laughing about the past and imagining the future. My son's future, primarily, since his has all that possibility. He will turn eighteen in a month, and will graduate a month after that. Between now and then, there will be countless futures made possible by countless choices. I can't wait to see what happens.