Not today, this entree into double digits happened months ago, but we are now hurling towards 18 faster than I thought possible. Many days I mourn, this loss of small childhood, the loss of unrealistic possibility and wonder. And because I work in a school, when I see my towering 10 year old children standing next to tiny kindergartners I realize just how far they are from where they used to be, what seems like only months ago.
And then my perspective shifts and there are times, like this past weekend, when I am able to see this not as something to walk away from, but something I'm waiting to embrace, this new found quasi adulthood. Saturday night, as I made dinner, Kate worked along side me, making chocolate chip cookies. My help required just to reach the hand mixer in the cabinet, something only necessary for the next month or so, as she is now barely 4 inches shorter than me. Mary sat in the living room working on a blog post, writing so well about her love of real food.
Sunday morning Kate sat at the kitchen counter, searching for examples of media bias online. Which led us to Anne Coulter and a lengthy discussion of politics, wherein I showed no bias whatsoever. Mary, working on homework in the family room, yelled in intermittently, her opinions on subjects ranging from Israel to the current mayoral race in Chicago. We may be balancing on a tender tipping point, the spot situated directly between looking for answers to anything and knowing the answer to everything, but I'm happy here for as long as we teeter. And if we make the most of this time, perhaps finding our way back will be easier.
Vivaldi on Pandora, pancakes on the stove and two children happy to spend this time with me; for this hour or so, my life in the snow globe of Western Michigan was just as I had hoped to see it one day, the future that I thought was so far away, creeping unexpectedly into my Sunday morning and fitting us all quite nicely.