Yesterday someone got Ry mixed up with a grown up on the phone.  Which is understandable because the kids are growing up.

I just looked outside the kitchen window.   Ry was standing with a hose in blue jeans rolled at her ankles, a brown t-shirt, and a silver bangle on her wrist.  She was busy working with her back turned to me.  For some reason the Tom Petty soundtrack clicked on in my head.  See the woman she is becoming.

Henry ambled through the kitchen early this morning.  He was on his way through to feed the animals and take care of the chickens.  He noted scones evolving the the mixing bowl and said, "Oh, that looks like a delicious breakfast."  He kept moving as he spoke because he was busy.  Tall and handsome and busy.

Occasionally people tell me to enjoy these years because they move so fast.  (And they do.)   These people want to make sure I understand that when teenagers come to live in my house I will no longer have my children here.  As if our relationship with the children is based on their helplessness.  As if I can't get along with adults the same way I get along with children.  As if the love will somehow erode.  This used to terrify me.  I clung to my babies fearing the day they could walk away.

That's not right and I have this on the highest authority possible.  Which is to say, Val told me.  Val says to remember that you know your children as adults (God willing) far far far longer than you know them as children.   And her words glow with love as she says them.  This is a good thing, these adults coming for you.   This could be one of the best things about old age.

And I see it now happening here.  The kids are growing up.  They will become adults I have the pleasure of knowing.  And this fills me with joy.  Everyday I love them more not less.  How can that be?  A super mystery for sure, but true.  And anyway they are just such cool people.  I like them, you know?  I really like them.  They are good.