I'm writing this post in the quiet of home while the dishwasher steams and the dryer hums and clicks. Abby is at tennis and Adam is at baseball. Nine and six. Put them together and it makes fifteen.
I came home from summer school today at 10:15 to find the laundry drying, dishes done, and fresh-baked banana bread cooling on the counter. My heart filled up. I am so lucky to have these two.
I drove Adam to baseball later in the morning, and he worried aloud about whether teams had been chosen in his absence yesterday when we were at an appointment in Fargo. I offered, "I'll walk in with you and stand by you."
"No, no, no, Mom," he said quickly. Standing by Mom was worse than facing uncertainty alone. I felt a stab of sorrow, but it was accompanied by laughter. It's been a joy so far to watch both of them grow up to the point of walking into baseball alone and making banana bread.
I don't miss not sleeping and jumping up every minute and a half to wipe up tears and spills. That was physically and mentally exhausting. I'm so happy with where we're at. I just want now to freeze time, I think. Let's stay in the gap between dependence and independence, in the moment of time where innocence and sweetness remain, where family memories are made.
Let's stay here.
