Spent last evening with the bigger grandkids while the boy went to Boy Scouts with his mama. In between reading and policing the sometimes arguing girls and keeping them out of grandpa's way while he installed a new kitchen sink, I saw a few childish art and learning projects. The third-grader is learning cursive. The four-year-old drew the family and has mastered the letters in her name plus 4, 8, and 5, so all of her scribbles include a mishmash of those conquered letters and numbers. There is nothing cuter than kid drawings and the oops of learning.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.