I admit that the college search/application/decision process has been most stressful. My child is eagerly flapping his wings, ready to take flight, although it seems like just yesterday when we read Swedish children's books on the couch or took woodland walks looking at ant trails and dragonflies. Come this fall I will not see his sleepy face in the morning, nor will I have to argue about his dirty socks on the floor.
For about a year now our lives have been consumed by college visits, essay writing, AP tests, SAT scores, interviews, financial aid applications, and more college visits. He worked hard, on all his applications, sifting through questions about life altering experiences, volunteer positions, and favorite words...
And here we are, final decision in hand. He will attend
University of Virginia in the fall. We will help pack his things, fill up the car, and drive a mile and a half down the road. For a kid with big dreams and many options this may seem a bit anticlimactic. He will go to school where his dad works, and walk on the lawn where he has played since childhood. But the truth is that we have a fantastic university in our own backyard. The adventure still awaits, new friendships will be made, and lots of new things will be learned.
As for me, I am relieved that the search is over and the decision is made. I am trying hard to hide how happy I am, knowing that he will still be nearby.
My dubious- stenciling-turned-into-art-project is finished. It is messy, cluttered, random, un-colorful, and without focus. All things an art quilt should not be. But I love it. I love the way it hangs, the paint splattered binding, the layered shapes. And I truly loved all the hand stitching involved. I am still insecure about my "art", unsure of my voice. This piece is most likely not representative of where I am heading, but it made me appreciate the possibilities within imperfection and encouraged me to try something new. I am not sure where it will end up. Blurring the lines may stay here with me in a happy spot in our house, since its error-filled origins may not be as endearing to the uninitiated eye. To me it is a reminder of awakening.
I admit that the college search/application/decision process has been most stressful. My child is eagerly flapping his wings, ready to take flight, although it seems like just yesterday when we read Swedish children's books on the couch or took woodland walks looking at ant trails and dragonflies. Come this fall I will not see his sleepy face in the morning, nor will I have to argue about his dirty socks on the floor. 
