I began this blogging journey as a man in my thirties and am now in my fifties. The toddler boy I used to write about is standing in the kitchen, 20 feet in front of me.
That toddler looks me in the eye and has a beard now.
He isn’t asking for help making breakfast, doesn’t need for me to grab things he can’t reach or for a ride to places he can’t get to because he has a car.
Doesn’t come to me for money because he has a job.
The girl who calls me dad and refers to the toddler as her older brother is talking about what spring break plans she and her roommates are thinking about.
She says she’ll come home for a few days during winter break but I don’t expect to see much of her because she’ll be running around with girlfriends who have also come home in between semesters.
Probably will get a moment of attention when she needs the car keys and or wants to discuss something where dear old dad gets hit up for a dollar.
She is good about that as she has had a couple of jobs and done a good job of carrying her own weight as best a college student can.
So I don’t mind helping out, she is on her way.
Where Will The Tracks Lead?
It is a strange thing to be in this semi-empty nester place. Looking at these kids it is clear they are on their way and curiosity makes me wonder where the tracks ahead of them will lead.
Good places I hope. Places that don’t have too much of the unexpected and unusual curves and bumps that life throws at us.
Something weird will happen, some sort of challenge and they’ll met it or them as needed, of this much I am certain.
And me, well I wonder where my own tracks will lead as I don’t just feel change, I smell and sense it all around me.
Should be an interesting journey, a little anxious, but mostly excited.
Can’t complain or ask much more of it now can I.