The boys trailed outside, one after the other. Even with their freshly pressed pants and perfectly placed ties, they were laughing and poking at each other. Out of the group, I quickly identified who the Bar Mitzvah boy was. He was unmistakably the oldest in his family. He carried himself with a sense of responsibility and maturity. Mom and Dad were walking right behind their crew. They seemed excited, but slightly overwhelmed by the sentiments this weekend of celebration was sure to bring. There’s something different about making a first Bar Mitzvah. You go from raising a child to being catapulted into a world where you have a son who is considered a man… an adult. It was just as much a right of passage for his parents as it was for him and while only 13, he seemed to recognize that.