You used to measure the approach of your 18th birthday in months. Now it's down to a matter of weeks.

I'd say short weeks, but I know that to you they're anything but short.

You just can't wait to reach that landmark birthday that signals so much more than the fact that you've made it through another year on the planet.

Eighteen has become the doorway to young adulthood, official enough to make you eligible to vote, which delights me; to serve in the military, which scares me; to be out there on your own, which makes me long for the days when you reached up for my hand whenever you felt unsure of yourself.

You may be feeling unsure now. But I know that the last thing you want these days is my advice, my help, my outstretched hand.

I suppose that's how it should be.

You're growing up. More to the point, you're growing away -- from your dad and me and the life you've known.

And that means I have some growing to do, too.

It doesn't help that you are my youngest. Letting go is tough enough, but it's even tougher when it's the last of the brood perched on the edge of the nest, ready to test his wings.

I don't suppose bird mothers dither about this sort of thing. They just give that fledgling a little nudge, and it's sink-or-fly time.

Bird mothers have it easy.

Lately I've been thinking about all that we've come through together, all that we've laughed about, cried about, argued about. We've both made mistakes, but I promise not to dwell on yours if you promise not to dwell on mine.

I've also been thinking about the times for which I'm grateful, memories I will cherish.

Like getting to watch you grow.

Being there when you stumbled, then watching you pick yourself up again.

Seeing you struggle and, when I knew that struggling was what you needed to do, doing my best to stay out of your way.

The road we've traveled together hasn't been easy. But look how far you've come. I just hope the road ahead of you will be smoother -- and that now you'll know how to handle the bumps along the way.

If I were to ask you what you're wishing for on your 18th birthday, my guess is your answers would range from yet another Yankees baseball cap to a car of your own.

If you were to ask me what I wish for you, I would tell you this: that you will grow to be a good man, a kind and caring person, someone who sees what the world needs to make it a better place and does something to make it happen.

And I hope that, wherever life takes you, you'll always remember that you are loved.

The door to all your tomorrows is opening. It's almost time for you to pass through it.

Once in awhile, look back. I promise I'll be there, cheering you on.

Write to Haupt at mhaupt@pressconnects.com or c/o Press & Sun-Bulletin, P.O. Box 1270 , Binghamton , NY 13902-1270 .