There is something wonderful about growing older. You don't often hear about it in this youth obsessed world that we live in, but I'm enjoying it.
Mary wrote a piece about her boys on her blog. It struck a chord with Hal, because he'd just come home to discover that his son had suddenly become taller than his wife.
My youngest is 22 now. My oldest is 30.
Do I miss those days when they were all at home? Yes. I do. Mostly what I wish for is 'do-over' moments. The chance to do it differently, to do it better, or maybe just to be more recognizant of the fact that those days will not last forever, to do a little more savoring.
But there is something wonderful about seeing them as adults. To watch your son's relationship with a lovely and sensible woman grow strong and unbreakable. To discover that he behaves with honor even when his mother is not around. Watching your own daughter learning to be a mother to her own baby boy, to sit in the driveway blowing bubbles, listening to baby babble and laughing quietly together as the day eases into night. I've watched Cara graduate from college. Not just simply graduate but to graduate with honors.
I'm at a point where I am watching them head off in their own directions and that is satisfying to me, to know that I have had a hand in their independence. It's still exciting to me, even though I do not see them every day or even talk to them every day, for that matter. They are grown now, my legacy to this world, and I am discovering that there is something every bit as precious and golden about these days as those precious and golden days of childhood.
I'm also discovering that two people left in an empty house automatically turn to each other. Know what? That is golden too.