vrooooom

There was a time when I ran free over the sand and played in sea water deeper than my waist. Now, I stand and watch my progeny, trying so hard not to let the fear show on my face when they venture further than ankle deep.

There was a day when I could swim and frolic without worrying which saggy body part was hanging out in some crazy direction.

There were glimpses of those days over the past week. Little fragments peeked through between the cracks of responsibility’s veneer.

Like flying my jacket in the wind and imagining where it would take me. Like sneaking out for a donut at 6 AM with my second born. Like stopping to listen to the street musician, even when no one else did. Like talking to a cyclist about the laurel and rocks, the newly changing leaves of northwestern Pennsylvania while taking out the trash.

But all in all, it’s good to be home.