When I first started writing a column fourteen years ago, I worried about running out of things to write. When Lissa persuaded me to blog a year ago, I still worried about the same thing. And the advice was the same: write about what you care about; if you don't stop caring, you won't stop writing. And that is why blogging might be very light these next couple of weeks. I have lots of ideas, lots of them. But I don't care about them.
There is a box of linens in the rec room; a trunk in the foyer; he's pinned his pre-season training schedule and his fall class schedule to the refrigerator. He's moved his desktop out of his room and he's actually picked all his clothes up off the floor. He's leaving. And it's hard to care about anything else.
But the fact of the matter is, he reads this blog. He's shared his life with my readers since he was very little. And he doesn't need to know over and over again how sorry I am to see him go. So, I won't write right now, at least not nearly as much as I care.