I was washing some large pasta pots when, out of the blue, Frank said, " Do you remember when we bathed the kids in the sink?"
Where did that come from?
Yes, I did remember. Like yesterday.
I loved bathing the kids in sinks. They were so wobbly, not yet able to sit up. Their perfect skin was soapy and slippery and perfectly white without a freckle or blemish. They laughed and stared deeply into my eyes. They loved warm water drizzled onto their bellies. They lifted their feet in the air, wiggling their toes. Rubber duckie, bubbles, plastic sail boats floated with them.
Yes, I remembered.
Frank said this the first week of fall when my older son was entering junior year of college, now with some lines of experience on his face, and my younger son was entering junior year of high school, standing over six feet tall.
My younger son is sixteen and this summer, with all its glorious weather and joyfulness, was best for me in just seeing him bloom. I will always remember the summer of 2011 as "his" summer. He got his driver's license, first time out, and I got another gray hair. He got his wisdom teeth out. Last summer marked a lot of questions and changes. This summer marked a lot of becoming who he is. He blossomed. He became comfortable with who he is; he laughs; he is totally "himself" with his friends. From day one, he began driving to school this year, programmed the music stations he wanted, got an iPod adapter. He wrote a first paper on what he thought about walking into high school the first day as a junior. He said he was grown up now. He said, as he walked into high school this year, he was thinking he was half way through high school, of college, life thereafter, and jobs. Wow. Really? I would never have known. Great assignment, English teacher!
With his friends, they discussed how many freshmen there are this year. My God, it's like they're zombies, multiplying. It's like "zombie armageddon!" He mentioned that in high school, the central stair case becomes a mob scene between classes, a "crush." As he was routinely pushing his way through during that first week, he actually heard a freshman shout out, "I'm scared!"
But he's sixteen. Such a pivotal age. He is no longer afraid of the crush at the staircase; onward and upward. I need to get on this ride, buckle my seat belt, and get ready for the roller coaster of this important year in his life!
