Last things

It's Thursday night and I'm here at Rockville High School for the annual cluster concert. Old jokes being the best jokes, I will tell you that the cluster concert is a cluster in more ways than one. When they tell you that motherhood is sacrifice, they were talking about the cluster concert. 

The cluster concert is a performance of all of the music ensembles at Rockville and its feeder schools, known collectively as the cluster. This is my first cluster concert since my older son's senior year, in 2019. The concerts were cancelled in 2020 and 2021, and I missed it in 2022.

Well I didn't really miss it if you know what I mean. 

The concert is different this year. In past years, the elementary school band played, followed by the middle school bands, and then the high schoolers would take the stage, resplendent in concert dress. Their entrance always brought the house down, partly because they look so nice, and partly because their arrival is a visible reminder that no one will have to listen to an elementary school band for another year. 

This year, the ensembles are combined. Symphonic Band, Orchestra, and Jazz Band, each with musicians from all of the schools. It's just as well. No one who isn't closely related to the elementary school kids should have to listen to them playing musical instruments. 

I'm just keeping it real. 

*****

It's intermission now. The Symphonic Band played very well and now we await the orchestra. This new format is less cluster and more concert and I'm all for it. As always I chose my parking spot carefully and I have already planned my exit strategy. I'm not a senior parent for nothing. 

But that's why I'm writing about this silly thing to begin with. It's because I am a senior parent, and everything is the last thing. It's the last cluster concert. Saturday morning will be the last regular season swim meet before the championship season begins. The last team dinner, the last baseball game, the last spring concert - 8 years as a Rockville High School parent, all coming to an end, and the year is passing with breakneck speed. I'm not ready but I'll have to get ready. 

*****

It's Friday now, and we're doing a college visit today. The swim coach at a small Catholic college that my son never even considered invited him to come for a tour and breakfast with the team so here we are. I think he was just flattered to be recruited at first, but after a full court press visit that included breakfast with the team (waffles are very convincing) and a 1:1 meeting with the coach, who made clear that he wants my son on his team, I think that this small college is now his first choice. It’s not as prestigious as Villanova and Virginia Tech, but prestige is not all it’s cracked up to be. Ted Cruz and Jared Kushner went to Harvard, know what I mean?

*****

And back to last things. It's Saturday morning now and I'm sitting on a bleacher at the Germantown Indoor Swim Center, waiting for the officials briefing to begin. I'm a stroke and turn judge to today, not the referee, so I just have to attend the briefing. I don't have to conduct it. 

It's the last regular season meet of the year and my last regular season meet ever. More importantly, it's senior day, and there will be a little senior send-off during the break. All three schools competing today will be recognizing their seniors so it could go on for a few minutes. 

*****

And that's a wrap. The meet was a blur of splashy starts and fast races and screaming kids, and the senior send-off went by so quickly that I almost missed it. Names were called, senior swimmers shook hands with their coaches, and the seniors, balloons in hand, lined up for photos. I didn't get a good shot. I hope that someone else did. A few minutes later, I saw my son on deck. He held up his arm to show me the curly black and orange ribbons wrapped around his wrist. “My balloon broke,” he said, shrugging.