I took my dearest friend—Kali I'll call her and she knows why—to the airport this morning. And I started crying—again. Not just because "Carolina in My Mind" was playing on the radio. (That song makes me cry every time, dammit, and not because I live in North Carolina.)
Thursday, October 31, 2013
What Do I Really Wish For?
First published on August 1, 2008
Jake and I spent the last week with his aunt and uncle and his three teenage cousins. Jake thinks teenagers are wonderful, especially 14-year-old Cousin Jeff who is as happy to throw a ball with him as to hold his hand, even if he draws the line at receiving a big mmmm-wah! kiss on the lips.
I enjoyed the teenagers as well. "Wow," I marveled. "Is it possible that one day I, too, will be able to hand the kids the keys to the minivan and send them to the movies while I have a nice dinner in a pub with my in-laws?" It is the stuff that the mother of a toddler's fantasies are made of.
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