As Dylan Thomas wrote, "Time passes. Listen! Time passes."
Où sont les neiges d'antan?
Sunday, March 24, 2013
now and then my son
Both pictures are of poor quality and yet they speak to me -- pictures of my son at his high school graduation and then again, more recently, in basic training at Fort Benning, Ga. Easy, gregarious assurance giving way to the je-ne-sais-quoi of a young man whose experience is making its mark.
As Dylan Thomas wrote, "Time passes. Listen! Time passes."
Où sont les neiges d'antan?
As Dylan Thomas wrote, "Time passes. Listen! Time passes."
Où sont les neiges d'antan?
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ReplyDelete'Lead, follow, or get out of the way.'
ReplyDeleteHoo-rah!
My six year old son just finished taking off all his snow gear "without any help!" as he told me. I know that is a blink of an eye, he will be 18. How can I not be attached to this moment?
ReplyDeleteRebecca -- Never mind the Zen posturing, but who says you are?
ReplyDeleteI do. Or at least I worry that I do. He's small enough that I can pick him up, and he can cover my cheek with noisy kisses. Someday, he'll be to big to climb into bed with me to watch tv. And that's as it should be. And I'll still love him when he's a teenager and tells me that I don't understand, and that he needs to make his own decisions.
ReplyDeleteI read the "Ballade des dames du temps jadis" in high school. Where, indeed?