I have to tell you how amazing it was for me to watch the Indiegogo campaign for Tre's robotics team. The first contribution made me cry. And then when my best friend contributed. And then when I found out it was actually her kids who had pooled their money. And I cried the first time someone I didn't know contributed. And when someone gave $10, which was incredibly touching for some reason. 

My aunt was one of the people who called and offered to cover my hotel room. 

"I don't know what to say," I stammered.

"You say thank you."

She was right. I needed to go. And I went, because people are actually amazing, no matter what TMZ has to say about the world. People are amazing. 

And so I say thank you.

 

St. Louis was incredible, and the days flipped by insanely fast. Suddenly we were finding our seats in a packed room for the final awards ceremony. In the aisle a group of kids did front hand springs and back flips, out of sheer joy and youthful exuberance. As the lights dimmed and the M.C. took the stage, it hit me.

It's over.

Not just World, not just this trip, not just his year, but for me as Tre's mom, robotics is over.

I won't be sitting in any more gyms, forgetting to breathe with the anxiety of a match. I won't get emotionally involved in how many cubes are in a basket and how high a flag is raised. I won't watch my son's face radiate joy over a perfectly executed autonomous round.

It's really over. 

In the dark, tears poured down my cheeks, unchecked. I picked up my phone and sent Tre a text, sitting eight seats away from me.

Hey, I wrote, thanks for doing robotics. Thanks for being amazing at it. And thanks for letting me come along for the ride. I'm so proud of all of you.

A moment later he glanced at his phone. And a moment later, he replied.

🙂

I cried in the dark, and I said thank you.