Wednesday, 30 April 2014

All Growed Up

My son and his family take possession of their new house today. It's pretty, from the pictures I've seen of it, and near the river walk. I imagine them living there, mowing the lawn, going up and down those front steps. I would love to go and see it (and them!) in person. Hopefully this fall.

It's a weird thing to think of my kid being a dad and having a mortgage and a job and doing all those regular adult things. I still think of him as eight and forever falling off his bike. There is a poster on the subway advertising a local college, and the model in the picture looks exactly like my son. It's freaky. Right down to the hat. Whenever I see that poster I sit and gaze at it and wonder. And maybe sniffle a little bit. I haven't seen him in a year and a half. I don't like the feeling of being so stretched in distance from my children. I know it's the normal thing these days, and I'm proud of him for working a job and being an adult. He's a great person and turning into a fine man. But how did he get to be so old? How did I get to be? There are times I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I walk past and my first thought is "What's my mom doing here?"

I want to be there pushing my granddaughter in a swing at the park, poking at bugs in the garden with her, holding her hand to cross the street. It seems like only a few days ago that I was holding her dad's hand, helping him explore the world.

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