I love the lush greens that come out when the world is wet. The little white flowers appearing on my basil make the greens pop even more, but they’re also a warning that the basil’s getting ready to bolt. It’s not alone.
I went to the country store to get caffeinated before trying to work or even play outside with the camera Sunday morning. The store was quite, and the proprietress, a good friend, had a moment to visit before stocking the drinks cooler for the day. My family is visiting for a belated graduation celebration for T1, and she asked if we were enjoying it. I mentioned that, Saturday night, as the Big Guy chaperoned T1, T2 and their recently-graduated cousin at a nearby carnival, my sister, my parents and I found our original foursome in the same place for the first time in ten years.
“Do you want us to start fighting for old times’ sake?” I had asked my mom as I gestured to my sister. I mentioned to my friend that it seemed so odd that my sister and I both had kids who were suddenly at the stage of life when they are starting to go their own ways. My nephew is headed to Germany to work for a year, and, if his hair-trigger colon cooperates, T1 is headed to college in the fall. My sister’s daughter was already missing this family celebration because she’s forging her summer path as a camp counselor.
My friend has been through this with her kids and now grandkids. She told me about a grandson who’s embarking on a summer internship in a strange city. We both remarked how odd it was for these people whom we once watched toddling around this same country store bolting out the doors to their futures.
“I don’t remember approving this,” I laughed as my friend headed back into the cooler to get it stocked for a busy summer Sunday. As I paid for my drinks and got in my car, I smiled, thinking this is exactly what you want for your kids when they’re born. You want them to be independent and ready for a life of adventure. You want them to be confident and filled with hopes and dreams. But realizing that it may be a long time before the ‘original’ foursome of T1, T2 and my sister’s twins are at the same table felt a little like a band-aid ripping off.