My schedule has sunk into a rhythm. I wake at an early hour. Read my email, CNN and local newspaper online. Check my blogs. The coffee is done. The deep rich aroma of a freshly brewed dark roast coffee fills the kitchen air. The first and only cup is enough to jump start this old mind and body. I head off to the gym.

Before I leave the gym for work, I have a strange feeling. I feel as though I need to call home. The house is empty. The kids are away at college and my oldest is enjoying the beginnings of her adult life. I move on and head into the office refreshed and ready to begin the day.

During the work day, I once again feel that urge to call home. Not anyone in particular, just dial the home phone. I am not sure who, but I really would like for someone to be there. Somehow I feel out on the edge, as if I am out on a boat without an anchor

I have thoughts about why I chose to move into a larger house. Did I make the right decision? At the time we all needed additional space, and this house had ample room.

This past weekend, the house was full of my children and their friends. The third weekend since their departure in conjunction with an annual festival proved to be just the excuse for a quick visit. It was simply the best time that I have shared with my children in their young adult lives. I have the sense that they are starting their next stages in maturity. The parenting/youth walls are coming down being slowly replaced by a connection of friendship. We enjoyed each others company and were saddened by the reality that this time will come to an end.

Sunday came all too quickly. We all enjoyed a nice breakfast together around the kitchen island. The kitchen island seems to be the focal point in our house for most activities. We all seem to gravitate towards this area at the beginning and end of the day. We said our goodbyes knowing that the next stretch of time until our next visit would be much longer.

Towards the end of the work day, I still have this feeling that something is drawing me home. After work I return to an empty house. I cut the grass, clean up and grab a bite to eat for dinner. I sit at an empty kitchen island, looking across towards empty stools. Strangely I find myself sitting at the island for an hour.

The door bell brakes a trance that I was in..thinking of the times when my children were there. It is my next door neighbor. A New England transplant with a thick New England accent still intact. We exchange greetings as he hands me two packages that were delivered to his house in my absence. My twin’s year books from high school have arrived. Great an excuse to call!!!

Twin I: Hey Dad, what’s up

Dad: Your year books are here.

Twin I: Oh cool, I will pick mine up when I come home

Dad: You and your brother look great.

Twin I: Awww thanks dad

Dad: You are in here a couple of times, for track and

Twin I: Yeah dad I know I was there when they took the pictures….Hey dad, gotta go see ya, love ya (click)

Well ok not exactly a long conversation…..I’ll call twin II, he will be excited….

Twin II: Hey

Dad: Your year book is here

Twin II: yeah?

Dad: Well I thought I would let you know

Twin II: Ok great….Talk to you latter..I gotta run...My studio group is in 15 minutes and I have a 10 minute walk from the dorm. Bye (Click)

A child arrived just the other day,
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you, dad.
You know I'm gonna be like you."

OK, you fathers of teenage girls who are about to graduate or maybe young adults about to marry PLEASE READ!!!…Those cute bathtub shots when they are two-eight months old….Don’t use them in the slide show!!!!

Her twin brother did not mind ( he laughed)…but my daughter blew a gasket when she looked up and saw herself at the age of eight months standing up in the tub. It took three boys to hold her back from destroying a $2000 video projector and $1800 laptop. A special father-daughter moment.

At that age she was a very healthy baby. Looked like a sumo wrestler!!  

I would share it with all of you, it's is abosolutely the cutest picture you will ever see. But there are sickos out there...so sorry.

 Another mistake was made....The mothers had come up with the idea to put childhood pictures on sticks and place them in flower pots on each table. My oldest daughter, quickly called us on this one. A picture that we thought was my youngest daughter, was actually a picture of my oldest daughter!!! Mark, date or name those pictures files!!!! You will thank me for the advise when the time comes.

While digging through childhood pictures of my twins, preparing a PowerPoint for their high school graduation open house, I was overwhelmed by the amount of memories that bubbled up from the past. The pre-school moments, skits in elementary school, the sports and band and more sports and more music. The dances, the times of trouble and times of joy.

As I am naturally proud and happy of their success, I do have a moment of jealousy from time to time. These two had parents that loved them from the time they saw their tiny images on the ultrasound screen. Parents that show their unparalleled support. Parents that have sacrificed much on their behalf.

Our oldest daughter understands our special attraction to these two. She had her brief moments of jealousy herself, until she realized recently that we would sacrifice everything we have for her safety and health.  

I hope this short burst of words may touch upon that guarded parental love that some safeguard.

We all must remember that our parents worked hard to support us. It was uncommon or not socially acceptable to express ones love as openly as we do today. But it was unspoken. The midnight shifts, the extra hours at the store, the tightening of the money belt, the “let’s do whatever it takes to help our children become successful adults" state of mind.”

Here’s to all the great children, their parents and their parent's parents as we celebrate success and the passage of time.