Life fades. The normal course is not to have things ripped away. Trauma comes in ripping, but the fading leaves quietly without notice. In peaceful moments, I often mark time with the thought: This is life... my life.

True and not true. It is, and it isn't.

For, Experience reminds me that I can no more hold onto the present than I can grasp falling water. Passing over fingertips, effects are felt, but don't remain. Every present is a part, a series of weavings that one day will form a whole, will one day reveal a story completed. Only then will I say with certainty: This is my life.

Today is 'Senior Skip Day'
So... today is Senior Skip Day. Translation: Mom of Senior has to Drive Carpool Day. It's on a morning like this I am taken back to passing water.

Mom Back in the Carpool Saddle
Turning the Expedition into the school driveway, I nostalgically observed a steady stream of parents filtering into grade and middle school lots. Whistle-blowing, hand-waving traffic directors braving the cold temperatures with mittens and earmuffs. Dads on cell phones scheduling daily appointments. Moms with no-so nicely coiffed hair, toddlers in tow. Moms with business suits, sipping the a.m. brew. Slightly older moms heading kidless toward the morning work-out.

Experiences Fade
A beehive of activity in which this Mom of Senior- who- normally -drives- carpool no longer daily partakes. I looooove having a son who drives...yet, this morning, I remembered how the water once felt, and I experienced a fading.

Fabric Fades
The fabric on my favorite windowseat daybed gets all the morning sun. Mac the Labradoodle knows how fabulous a nap can be on this spot! I know one day the sun will steal away all color. Fading.

Daily Rituals Fade
Nightly bedtime gatherings at the Kinleystead were ritualistic in the early years. Stories, prayers, giggles, and poking standard fare. Clayton always asked for a "hug and pat-pat". Davis was the one needing more water. Stuart dutifully remained in bed. Fading.

The 'Lasts' Fade
Yesterday Davis, while at a friend's house, had left on two lights with dirty clothes covering his floor. I walked into his room and wondered," When will I... turn this light off for the last time? When will I... pick-up the last dirty sock?" This, too, will fade.

My Stuart is a Senior
My skipping senior just entered the front door from spending the night out, made a mid-morning lunch, and headed up to his room to eat and play a video game. I can see the fading and know its quiet. I just closed my eyes, felt the water, and wondered how I could be the mom of another senior boy.

"Hop on up, Mac" I said, motioning for my fuzzy friend to claim her place on the sunny daybed.

"Enjoy the moment...this will also...fade.

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