You know how you can think back to early days with your partner and recall certain moments so clearly as one of those things that “made you fall in love” with him or her? I remember when we had just started dating, my now-husband noted how his son – a youngster at the time – had a hundred different smiles. I don’t even recall what he went on to say about it, but I was so touched by that notion and by my husband’s recognition and appreciation of such a sweet thing.

His son – our son – is 18 now. A man. Through his teenage years, we haven’t been privy to as many of those different smiles as we were when he was a boy. When you’re a teen, most of your smiles are reserved for your friends, not for the people who harass you about homework and force you to sit with the family at dinner when you’d rather be in front of your computer, instant messaging your girlfriend.

Lately, though, I am seeing more and more of those smiles again as my son prepares to start his adult life. Gods, do I cherish them. He is such a beautiful and fascinating kid. The way his mind works is lovely – both quixotic and grounded. He is passionate about living an authentic life, appreciating beauty, affecting culture through his art. He has an extraordinary talent and his artwork is strikingly imbued with bewitching depth and emotion. This was a kid reading Ginsburg and Gogol at 15, not for school. He was independently pondering philosophy and the relative ethical merits of different socio-economic systems when many his age were most concerned with who won American Idol.

I don’t know what it will be like without my son here every day. My husband, our daughter and I had a practice run when he did a residential art program last July, but we all knew he’d be back at the end of the month. Even thinking about him being gone gone gives me a little achy feeling in my chest. I’m so proud of him and am excited for the future he will create for himself. He is smart and motivated and kind. I know he’ll be okay, but somehow it feels like this has all snuck up on me.

Did we teach him everything he’s going to need to know? Surely there are gaps. Practical skills we’ve been using for so long we don’t remember learning them so we never taught him. Still, I have faith in his intellect, curiosity and resilience. He’ll figure it out, just like we did and just like our parents did when they first went out on their own. He’ll be fine.

But what about us? How will we adjust to not seeing any of his 100 smiles for unknown lengths of time?

Man, I’m going to miss this kid young man!