This past weekend my husband and I spent a relaxing stay in a quiet cabin on the other side of the mountain. It was a place I had taken my children when they were small, before my husband was part of my life.
What a jolt it was to see those places and remember my five year old son and 12 year old daughter tubing down Deep Creek. The squeals of delight, the stark terror when he drifted by and my daughters hysterical screams, in all of three feet of water! The hiking trail by the waterall where my son, older now at 11, raced across an icy log bridge with his 7 year old nephew scooting behind, ignoring warning signs of slippery rocks. No one fell in thank heavens.
My daughter is now 24 and my son is 17, the oldest grandson grown from 7 to 12. Where did the time go?
I drive past churches and schools, and halls where my son performed in musicals. plays, contests. It brings a lump to my throat. My youngest is almost a man, in fact in many ways he is.
My oldest daughter is a mess, 3 sons and a bad relationship. When do we stop being "parents"? Never. Even when we stop making the rules, kissing the boo-boos, fixing the messes, we still feel the pain.
