Reflections on Laundry, Soccer, and Letting Go

He usually does his own laundry. Of course, I have to remind him every week and occasionally step in to separate the whites from the darks. And yes, I often end up “helping” with the folding and the actual putting away—but for the most part, he handles it.

Today, though, he asked me to wash his soccer uniforms. Two games this week—one home, one away—meant both uniforms, the long socks, the grip socks, and even those straps that hold it all together (still not sure what that’s all about) needed a good wash. I agreed, since I was working from home, and truthfully, these little domestic tasks bring me a sense of comfort.

As I folded his maroon and white jerseys, still smiling from last night’s victory, I felt a wave of emotion. It seems like just yesterday I was in awe of my freshman boy playing alongside what looked to me like full-grown men on the varsity field. Now, I have to face the fact that he is one of them.

The number of times I’ll get to fold his high school soccer uniform is limited. But the chance to be his biggest fan—on and off the field—that’s forever. Always rooting for you, AG.