Proud, sad, and hopeful.

"I fucking love opera, and I don't care who knows!"

These were the words that Zack said to me as I stood on his doorstep with him after I dropped him off tonight. I'd had a couple drinks. He'd had about ten more than I had. I dropped him off, and after waiting a while, noticed him still standing on his front porch, not entering. I turned off my car to go help him get inside. Instead of going inside, he handed me his I-Pod headphone and had me listen to Beethoven. For several minutes. I was standing on Pratt Street, listening to the traffic whizz by, and couldn't give it back to him. It was so good that I wanted to cry, but really, I had wanted to do that most of the day, so that's understandable.

I dropped him off after a trip to Ale Mary's, where he embarassed me with the first of several toasts about my situation with Bobby.

"This man," he said, slurring his words to the three other people in the bar, "is a high school teacher, and had a kid who got a full ride to the University of Maryland, and the kid got kicked out of his house just a few weeks before he left, and this man sitting right here took him in."

"Wow, that's heavy," said the bartender, who gave me my beer for free.

Zack continued: "And he dropped him off at college today, and he needs a drink."

I don't know if I really needed a drink, but he sure did make me feel good tonight, hanging out with him and hearing him talk about the situation.

He proceeded to buy me a couple of Resurrections at Ale Mary's, on top of his $21 of tips he gave me yesterday to buy books for him.

Such a great day. I got to College Park in the morning, and attended most of the day's orientation sessions for Bobby's group. It just fills me with pride and happiness to see Bobby part of this group. The day was amazing, hearing all about the expectations and rewards of the scholarship program he is a part of. I looked across at this mother crying throughout the ceremony, and thought to myself, "I know exactly how you feel."

Proud, sad, and hopeful.