It was just over four years ago when our son made his decision to attend Indiana University, a large public research institution in the charming mid-western college town of Bloomington. And it was five years ago during our student tour, that I remember standing at the entrance to the oldest part of the campus from our place under the graceful limestone arches known as the Sample Gates. A few years later we gathered for parents weekend and cheered on the football team, met roommates and friends, and celebrated university life. Time marched on, the distance between the school and our home is several hours, young men aren’t in need of their parents as often, and the visits to the Bloomington campus ceased, until a few weeks ago. With graduation looming, I heard the call of this beautiful mid-western university and felt an instinctive pull toward our son to spend a last visit together, cement graduation plans and to dream of the future. I met housemates and friends, celebrated university life and embraced the instinctive moment of motherhood when I knew that everything would be, alright. Before I drove back to the airport, I stood again at the Sample Gates and imagined a young man from Atlanta, Georgia tossing his graduation cap from the sunroof of his car as he turned left at the limestone gates for the last time, driving towards a friendly fading sun who lightly whispered a future of love, laughter, hope and promise.