Times are changing and I find myself somewhat at a crossroads.
A time when the seasons of my life seem to be overlapping somehow.
And yet, is that so bad?
There is a poetic beauty in it... maybe hidden... maybe just within reach.
How long ago were we the young ones growing up with our parents worrying about us? Hoping that we make it. Loving us. Letting go. In my excitement to leave home and be on my own, was I so blind to see my parents left behind, reluctant to let go?
The ending of one childhood and the beginning of another. They have no idea what lies ahead, the tough times, the struggles... the love, the joy. Grandma - I'm getting used to it.