Can my son be the only one to miss this family simchah?

You would think the kid was flying to a third world country instead of going for a three-hour drive in his father’s car, from the way I can’t stop crying.

“Ohhhhkay!” Mendy claps his hands. “This limo leaves in exactly sixty seconds. One last smother, everyone, and then Avrumi is off to the big leagues.”

The big leagues. High school. My baby, off on his own. I always knew this day would come, living out of town, but it’s so hard to process it now that it’s here.

He’s an amazing kid; I’ve known him all his life. He’s going to do fantastic. But what about all the other factors… the other kids, the rebbeim, the dormitories, the dorm counselors? What if he gets sick, or hungry, or homesick?

I try to push these worries out of my mind and wrap him in one more hug.

He’s so cute and handsome and I can tell he’s nervous.

He gives a little salute, says, “So long,” and hops into the car. I really want to go along with them, but we both agreed it’ll be easier on Avrumi if it’s just Mendy.

I’m tempted to press my face against the window to see if Avrumi’s tearing up, but I do have some self-control.

Nachi starts crying, so at least I have something to do with my hands. I scoop him up, trying not to think about how Avrumi was just this size like, yesterday, and we wave and blow kisses while Mendy toots the horn and pulls out.

The house feels strangely quiet. Okay, maybe not so strange, considering Avrumi is usually thundering up the stairs, jumping down them, whooping randomly, and dribbling a basketball. Suddenly, I miss it all.

Blinking away tears, I say loudly, “Let’s make pizza!” That should distract everyone.

Just not me.