It's the first day of school and I'm weepy about a freaking doormat.

We took the traditional first day of school picture today for my high school junior. She’s standing on the porch, beautiful, radiant, ready to go grab life by the collar and bend it to her will. She’s wearing a black skirt, a black golf shirt with a school logo and a “necklace stack” (an expression she taught me this morning) and a “bracelet stack” (same).

She’s not a kid anymore (heart flutters). Neither is her older sister (tears up). Forgive me for getting caught up in my feels this morning, but this has already been a week, as the older one left on Sunday for her sophomore year of college (which I AM TOTALLY FINE WITH AND AS PROOF I SAY I HAVE ONLY TEXTED HER 298 TIMES).

My wife sent me a first day of school picture that we took what seems like yesterday but was actually nine years ago (wipes eyes). The younger one is wearing pink flip flops and quite possibly the greatest sundress ever made. It’s blue and green and yellow and purple and flowery. Even better than the dress is the look on her face. It’s full of spunk and vibrance and perfectly captures her essence then and now.

It’s the kind of look that explains A LOT.

The things that came out of that kid’s mouth … man I miss those days. One highlight was when she first learned the game “would you rather?” but didn’t understand how to play. So she asked, “would you rather go to a party and meet new friends or fall out of a tree and get eaten by a bear?”

I am proud that her idealized version of a great day was to go to a party and meet new friends.

After she left for school, I studied the pictures. I noticed our doormat in each of them. It was a gift from my friend Dave Young, who mailed it to me when we moved from Charlotte to St. Louis 11 years ago. I cried when I opened it because I missed Charlotte so much.

Yes, I cried over a doormat.

And I might again today.

In the older picture, you can see a giant C and easily read “THE CROSSMAN FAMILY.”

In the newer picture, all of that has been worn out. There are literally no words or letters left.

Just yesterday I thought I would buy a new one. Today, after seeing it new and old, I’m not so sure. Today I wonder if there aren’t 11 years of memories in that erasure of “THE CROSSMAN FAMILY.”

I wonder how many “new friends” have stepped on that thing. I wonder how many of them came into our house and laughed and ate and talked. I wonder how many of them left hoping to come back again. Hopefully all of them.

I don’t want to get all weepy over this … but I will anyway. A lot has happened in those 11 years. It’s interesting to think that while “THE CROSSMAN FAMILY” was being worn out, in that time we actually grew stronger, taller, older, better and, I hope, closer.

And yet … and yet …

I can’t help but think in another 11 years that wiping out of the name will take on a new meaning, because their names won’t even be Crossman anymore and (cries hysterically).