Mid-October in Southern California, and it finally feels like fall. The sun is still out, but a cool breeze drifts through the fence.

I’m at my daughter’s tennis match. She’s a junior in high school and growing up fast.

All I can think about is how many days are left where I get to watch my beautiful baby girl dance across the court. How many days left where those blue eyes give me a quick glance after a win? How many more conversations in the car to and from the game? How many secret ice cream cones after the match?

How many?

Not enough.

Part of me wonders if I write too many “Dad posts,” but mostly, I just write what I want. So here’s another one.

I have to say how lucky I feel to be a father. I got a bit of a late start (I’ll be 58 next year, and my youngest, Hope, will be a junior in high school).

I can’t imagine it any other way. The kinetic energy that fuels the chaos each corner of our house comes from the TV blaring, the dogs barking, my sons playing video games, my wife (the very reason I am a father) grading papers while doing 7 other things at once, and my daughter walking down for a snack, then retreating to her bedroom again, but never going back upstairs without a kiss and a soft, “I love you, Daddy.” That’s all it takes to make me happy.

My son Cole is at NYU Film School and loving it, which makes me anxious in all the right ways. He’s home for the summer, but I can tell he’s starting to figure out who he is in the world and what he wants to become.

My daughter Hope is a wonderful artist and will probably end up with the highest grades of them all. She’s becoming…and that, too, makes me a little anxious.

But this year has been all about my son Toby. He graduated from high school last week. His high school journey has been incredible: he played on the varsity tennis team, earned his Eagle Scout rank, and won more awards than I can list. He was named “Charger of the Year,” received the “Top Character” award from his teachers, and has been a student leader in ASB since his sophomore year. How does one top that?

At his high school, students can submit a written speech for a chance to speak at graduation. If selected, they get to sit on the main stage and deliver that speech to the entire class. Toby submitted his speech… and it was selected.

Stage right, about 9 rows up on the bleachers, right about at the twenty yard line, Jenn and I got to see how far our son had come. And I wanted to share it with you.

Happy Father’s Day. To the moon!