Hook and Bullet Club by Nick Wognum - Summer is over

And then summer was over.
This is Labor Day weekend, the official end of summer fun. If you’re like me, the best is yet to come. Bring on fall!
Our summer drew to a close with a flurry of activity. We transported our youngest, Evan, to college two weekends ago.
We packed two vehicles to the hilt with enough stuff to fill a dorm room and made the trek to Bemidji State University.
Hiding in the parking lot when we got there was our oldest, Jacob. Remembering how many times Evan helped him move, Jake drove over from Moorhead and surprised Evan. Freshman nerves were replaced by a big smile.
The vehicles were emptied and Evan’s half of the dorm room filled up quickly. It was a good thing he lofted his bed to give him some extra room. Dorm rooms haven’t gotten any bigger since I was in Griggs Hall at UMD 32 years ago.
We took in a student-parent orientation program at the football stadium and even met Faith Hensrud, the president of BSU.
All of the freshmen piled on to the football field to take a group photo. You can see Evan right in the front row.
When we took off the next morning it was tough, I’ll admit. Our nest was empty and Evan had been with us through two college move-ins already. Didn’t seem like it was time for him to do the same.
Tears were wiped away as Mary and I headed further west. We went from Evan to Kinlee for a visit with Jacob and Kyah.
We also met the newest member of the family, a puppy named Piper who is just as cute as can be.
Seeing Kinlee running around helped ease the pain of saying goodbye to Evan. She’s a bundle of energy and her new pal Piper only adds to the excitement.
When Evan was young we had a golden puppy come to live with us as well. How puppies know to be patient with a little one is beyond me but somehow it works. More blessings.
This past week we watched in shock at the disaster in Texas from Hurricane Harvey. Our family may be spread out a bit more between Ely and North Dakota but we’re all safe and sound for now.
There’s a saying about not counting your chickens until they’re hatched. But you can count your blessings as often as you want. And we do.