…and demands that we march with it.
is graduating from 8th grade tomorrow.
Which is equal parts ridiculous and bananas. Also, it’s requiring a smidge bit more of my time than I apparently thought it would (this morning’s omg-thank-God-I-thought-of-this-now-and-not-tomorrow moment was “His suit! Must be dry-cleaned!”).
Plus I have pretty hard deadlines on a couple of projects this week, not to mention that if I manage to write for Open Zion, that, too would be a good thing – I think what I’m saying here is that In My Head may be less content-ful than I might like over the next few days. (My actual head is probably too content-ful, but that’s another issue).
I’ll just say this – I once wrote this about the boy (who learned to walk in his second year when I was away for 36 hours, and grew taller than me earlier this month when I was away for 10 days) and his sister, and it’s all still true:
But if I could go back in time for anything, it would be to fall asleep with them on my chest, or make them laugh that crazy way, or run my hand over their smooth, wispy hair. I would put my nose against their necks and breathe and breathe and breathe, and check every toe and every finger and every fold in their august thighs, and will my body to remember every single thing. Before I would meet my own father, I would hold my babies, one more time.