Rites of Passage

I used to like driving Patrick to soccer.

Three or so times a week, we'd make the trip. He sat next to me up front and we talked about all sorts of things. Sometimes we just listened to music on the radio in companionable silence. Those days are over.

Last Monday, he got his Learner's Permit. Now, he drives and I sit next to him up front. We talk about driving, both of us very intent on the task at hand.

And I'm sort of sad. Because I know what the next step is.

He's going to drive alone.