He is eleven years old now and definitely coming into his own and feeling out the adult he will become. It is joy mixed with sadness for recollection of the newborn who lay on my chest at 1 day old, leaving a small damp spot on my shirt from his quick breaths.
September and a new school year seem especially a time when we are challenged to keep up with the rushing race of time. Suddenly, summer is over, and we look over and those young’uns are sproutn’ up like weeds! Yikes, I’m hearing strains of “To everything (turn, turn, turn) There is a season (turn, turn, turn)…” I’m signing out before it gets too sappy and morose.