Sunday, June 12th, 2016


I, along with my husband, am on a ‘grande tour’ of out West Coast kids.
Seattle, Portland as in Oregon, and Santa Cruz. Not shabby places to visit.

My so-called kids are all over forty years old. I know that and still it comes as a surprise when I visit them—not when they visit me.  When they visit me, they are my children and I still feel very much in charge even though they help out all of the time.

When I visit their homes, I am suddenly aware of just how fully manifested their adult lives are.  Homes that reflect them, friends that I don’t know, clothes I have never seen, and their own domestic culture. I/we ‘visit’.  

This used to throw me a little. I did feel displaced as in not integral. And so I cooked and helped with kids and did laundry—still mom-ing. This trip I am relaxing into not being needed and loving it. I am now the mom and grandmother who is cared for and honored. I let others feed me (very well) and 
drive me and I read or play games or take naps or get ready for the next adventure that someone has devised FOR me.

This is a nice new stage in our family life. I could really get used to it
All I have to do is say ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’.  Or “could you make me a cup of coffee?”


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