“I’m leaving,” my 17-year-old son yelled.“You’re what?!” I ran to the window and flung open the curtains.Avary was backing the black Jetta out of our driveway.
It was angled perfectly for the taillight to smash into the fencepost. He is finally driving alone, I thought as I dashed down the stairs to get to the car before it hit the fence.This moment marked yet another tenuous step toward this boy’s independence.
And, as it always happens, Avary’s movement was causing me extreme anxiety.Avary’s developmental milestones don’t always mirror those of his peers.
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