My son started at Lake Country School when he was only three years old and this picture captures exactly who he was then -- full of laughter and life, forever in motion. On Monday, after 11 years at the school, he graduated from 8th grade. He stood on those same concrete steps in a crisp white oxford shirt, black pants and dress shoes with his hands in his pockets and smiled for a picture without having to be bribed with Starbucks which seems to be the going rate these days.

It's easy to be cynical about these lower-level graduations when you see preschoolers in the tiny caps and gowns that historically marked only high school graduation and the conferral of advanced degrees. But rituals tap into our reflective selves, the part of us that needs to name and understand and mark the passage of time. They force us to stop and wonder.

From the time we bring them home, we watch our children closely. We note that first smile and the first tooth and the first word and marvel as they learn to crawl. And then, we watch as they take their first steps and with those, they begin to walk away from us, though we don't think of it like that at the time. We are guides and observers; we lead and we follow. Each milestone takes them further away from us and towards their future.

I remember observing in my son's classroom when he was three, his tiny hands sorting objects and stacking blocks. I sat quietly and watched as he made a snack with practiced care and he moved through the room with confidence because he claimed that space as his own. He understood the rules and expectations and I was a visitor there, peeking into his world rather than watching him in the one we shared. Now, at nearly 14, I can still see the little boy he was. He still laughs easily and his personality can fill a room and his body vibrates with energy and movement. But, his path diverges from mine more often. He goes out with friends and goes to soccer practice and he will go to high school in the fall. He is off to bigger things, literally and figuratively.

As I drove him home after the graduation dinner with his classmates and teachers, I asked him how he was feeling. His first response was, "Legit" and I turned and smiled and said, "Could I have some real words please?" He smiled back and said, "It feels right." I nodded in understanding. There is comfort in the familiar but we have to realize when it's time to move on. It's time and he's ready and we'll stand behind him, watching and waiting to see what happens next.

PHOTO CREDIT: VIKKI REICH