Quiet
My son is spending a few days with his grandparents. This means I get to sleep in, shop alone, browse the bookstore. The quiet follows me around town. I used to have this life: adult conversations and no diaper bag.
Right before he left, he dropped “mimi” and I became “mommy.” The oldest of cliches, they change so quickly, but it happens within a 24 hour period. No longer do I wear “necks,” but now “neckwace, pwease, mommy.”
When I am old, I am certain I will dream of running my fingers through his red curly hair.
Oh, this boy. He is both a joy and a heartache.
