He was a teenager. That’s the first bit of information I should share with you before you judge me.
From the age of 13 to 15, he changed from a huggable, lovable son who bought me flowers to a changing-voiced male who thought that most of what I said was either simple, silly, or just plain stupid.
I understood. After all, I wasn’t ancient enough to not remember how I felt as a teen. Continue reading
When my mom was in her mid-80s, she asked that we visit a tattoo parlor together.
“Let’s get mother/daughter tattoos, maybe with a heart design,” she suggested. Continue reading
A month of humid and
Undulating heat that
Gushes over us like rock Continue reading
Bravery comes in all sizes and shapes. And ages.
When my CA grandson (12) flew out on his own to visit my guy and me, he received his second vaccine shot the day before. We were all a bit worried about him flying with side effects, but when we picked him up at the airport (see Oh, you’re one of THOSE | roughwighting ) he just shrugged and said “I slept for the entire 6 ½ hour flight.”
Easy peasy. Or so I thought.
While driving to the airport two weeks ago, I had a horrible thought.
What name did my son use to authorize me to pick up my 12-year-old CA grandson from the Boston airport?
“Sky” had never flown on his own. But he couldn’t wait for the taste of independence (and full attention from doting grandparents) by flying across country to visit us for a week.