Rites of Passage

We’ve all had them in one form or another and they vary wildly depending on the culture you grow up in.  Rites of passage, the mile posts, some we remember, others not. Learning to walk, going to kindergarten, first job as a teen, graduating from school, getting married, becoming a mother, becoming a grandmother.  Those are some of mine.  What was re-enforced this week, we continue to have them but unless we slow down long enough to take them in the moment might be so fleeting it’s missed.

Last week, for the first time, my granddaughter drove herself to our house for our regular Friday night visit.  When she was learning to drive we made the trip together many times. I’ve even driven there and followed her from home to here for practice.  When she arrived this time it felt different.  Even the dogs acted more like we had ‘company’.  Friday night was still our Friday night.  We still laughed, ate dinner, watched a movie, woke up and enjoyed our coffee in the morning, all the normal things.

Then she got ready to leave.  Alone.  I wasn’t going to have those extra minutes in the car with her all to myself quite as often any more.  I miss them already.

Look fast, that flash in the peripheral vision was another mile marker zipping past.

 

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