 |
| Piper picked these growing wild . . . they made me think of Van Gogh . . . |
I'm heading off to spend a week with my mother on Saturday and both John and I are feeling the upcoming separation (I know, we've been married forever . . . why feel sad about being apart a week? Because the first three years of our relationship, we were far away from each other--long distance relationships, BAD) so we let the kids watch a movie (a mid-week super treat) and went to dinner.
And then walked around Provo reminiscing about our years of undergraduate and graduate school . . . and our year of courtship. It's so odd that it all happened decades ago. It seems, for real, like yesterday.
We stopped at Phoebe's apartment to say, Hi. Her roommates and friends and boyfriend were all there, eating late dinner, studying and laughing. They seemed so young and busy and stressed but happy--typical college students. I looked at them and thought, Wow, I can't even really remember (I don't really want to remember the stress of college) what it's like to be you. And it's ok, because I'm not. I'm the parent of you. I get to watch you stretch and learn and grow and take risks. I'm here to catch you.
I guess I've grown up.
But not totally. Because we still go on dates and kiss in parked cars and feel stupid and young and happy and take risks ourselves. Maybe we're always growing up . . . and I may like that idea.
Comments
Post a Comment