The summer after high school graduation before your child heads to college is full of mixed emotions. As a parent, you’re filled with so much pride – in your child and yourself – for making it through more than a decade of schooling. It feels like you’ve made it to some kind of finish line, except you realize that it’s the 10K finish line and you signed up for the half-marathon. That’s when the rest of the emotions like anxiety and fear swirl in.
Still in the Race
One leg of the race down, you know you and your kid have to keep running, but now there are new obstacles almost as if the terrain changed entirely. There’s less shade, the trail is rockier and the mile markers are harder to spot. They’re not quite sure where to go and, truthfully, neither are you. At least not entirely.
And so during this summer when your child is no longer a high schooler and not quite a college student, you’re no longer setting the pace. It’s a weird in-between space: you’re still needed, but not in the same way. You’re still running, just … parallel? Not exactly right beside them. Maybe you’re lagging just a bit behind. Not too far, though; you still want to keep an eye on them and make sure they stay on course. You watch them register for classes, navigate the “Roommate Finder” and choose twin XL sheets and shower shoes. You want to help. You could help. But you also know shouting out directions at this point might trip them up.
You hesitate. Is it better to stay close? Step back? You’re learning to parent in a new key, quieter but no less present.
Instead, you almost shift to being a volunteer at the aid station handing them what they need and hoping they remember to grab it. This summer before college is time for a gear check: Do they know how to make a doctor’s appointment? Can they do their laundry without turning it all pink? Have you talked about credit cards, consent, homesickness and what to do when they fail — not if, but when?
The Last Few Weeks Together
These last few weeks together before college are also a chance to give them the pep talk they didn’t ask for. Tell them they’re ready. That you’re proud. That it’s okay to be scared. Remind them that asking for help is strength, not failure. And maybe — gently — remind yourself of the same.
At this stage in the race, you can’t be on the course with them. You have to trust that they’ve learned how to pace themselves. That if they stumble, they’ll get up. That when they need help, they know you’ll be there for them. That they will find their rhythm and so will you.
In the end, this race isn’t about speed or perfect form. It’s about showing up mile after mile. You’ve trained them as best you could. You’ve tied the shoes, packed the fuel, laid the foundation. Now it’s their turn to run and yours to cheer.
Keep Running
You’ll still show up. At family weekend. On FaceTime. In that first “Can I come home?” call. Because while your stretch of the race may be over, your love isn’t. It’s in every step they take — steady, invisible, unshakable — even when they’ve run so far ahead that you can’t see them on the trail.
And you’ll keep running too. Not in their lane, maybe not even with a map, but forward all the same. You’ll rediscover who you are beyond drop-offs, practices and parent portals. You’ll relearn the sound of your own breath, remember who you were before you were always pacing beside someone else. The course is yours now. Unmarked, unfamiliar … but all yours.
So you run. A little scared. A little lighter. Carrying everything you gave them and maybe a little of what they gave you back.
