...so bizarre that I sit here in my son's sweatshirt.

I came home from work today to 58 degrees and sunny...fabulous for March in Upstate NY, but not as warm as the 75 I was in at work all day, a mere 8 miles away. Still the lake is in the 40's, so a mix with warm air created an eerie fog, and, naturally, damp cold air as well. There was still sun, and it was so nice to sit outside, but I needed a sweatshirt. His was on the chair. I threw it on.

Only moments ago, simply sitting in the living room watching TV, did I take in how warm and cozy I was. And I realized, I am in my son's sweatshirt. The little boy I carried, is, these days, very nearly bigger than me. His sweatshirt, roomy. But warm. We're at that turning point, where I still protect him, I am his mom, I am his strength, but at times, now, I feel a reassuring pat from him as well. He has a way of knowing when I need time, to myself, or time with him. He sits close, snuggles and talks, or me gives space. I hope I give him the balance of space that he needs as well. I am still the mom, but we talk, at times, more like equals. He asks big questions, and instead of simplifying, I give him big answers.

Yep, that's our family, we talk, and talk, and talk. So much is happening, so much newness, so much change, everyday. He is getting older. It feels like time is just flying by. But it also feels like a whole new beginning.