My son graduated from high school this week.  Of course I’m proud of him. Of course I’m genuinely thrilled that he is going off to college in a few months, even if that college is 3000 miles away from us.  Of course I am happy that he is on his way to making his very own life, far away from his father’s and mine. Of course I know that being a parent means raising your children to go away and leave you in reasonably good health and with a minimum of issues for which they will need to consult mental health professionals in the future.

Of course I am excited about his future, this child who lived under my own beating heart for nine months — in spite of the fact that I am still in firm possession of all the primal lioness hormones with which I was endowed at his birth and the fact that the mystery of the Holy Trinity pales in comparison to the unfathomable depths of my love for him.

Of course you will forgive me if I note that “bittersweet” is for children and not for chocolate.