Time of Transistion

My present position: Dunn Bros Coffee House in Minnetonka, Minnesota.
My present company: 11 week old baby - nestled into my chest, covered with blanket, and feeling cool breeze upon his infant toes.
Present Senses:
Sight: road ahead of me, cars passing by
Smell: Coffee and Lilacs and Sidney's head.
Feel: Sidney's soft hair.
Hear: People's remote morning conversations, construction hammering, wheels turning, birds rhythmically chirping.

Transition

As i caress the head of my three month old son, my 12 year old is at the local Jr. High taking his math placement test. I can't help but look at my van parked in front of me and see the emptied seats - currently vacant, but characteristically bursting with children conversing, singing, crying, and fighting.

Transition

My oldest born is entering into a world i cannot fathom. As an onlooker comes by to dote on Sidney, she asks me if this is my first. I laugh, thinking… this is my last. My oldest is out there, demonstrating a valor step in independence and I hold this little one who clings through his daily dependence. My oldest says he is neither nervous nor excited; but when i advise that he walk ahead of me and check in, he says, "No, i will help you with Sidney and walk with you."

I quickly reminisce back to a little boy walking into All saints Nursery School with his clean sandals, sharp and ironed shirt and snappy back pack – tangling his little fingers within mine as he assess his world. Today, he is older - smudged shorts, wrinkled t-shirt, barely combed hair and I question if his teeth are brushed - but in his own way and time, he is holding my hand....or am i holding his?

Transition

I admit ~ i don't want to let him go. I, too, am transitioning and growing and as i look down at my youngest, as he smiles and coos at this alone time with mom - i grow a tad solemn; knowing this time shall pass and it won't be long before this little boy is in his starched new shirt and his snappy back pack, standing in front of the preschool sign being asked to smile before we head on in to his new classroom.

Transition

My oldest just called on the cell phone and is ready to be picked up.

Present smell: my babies head
Present feel: Apprehensive, tentative and tearful
Present sight: I take a step back and watch my first born begin to lead me instead of the other way around
Present Sound: the birds continue, the cars persist, the conversation has not died out, and yet, i can only concentrate on my oldest who says, "Mom, come and pick me up, I am done with my test."

My world is now quieted as I make my way through this transition in time.