“What time do your boys get out the door?” A friend asked me this morning.

“One at 5am and the other at 7am,” I said.

“How does that feel?” She wondered.

I hadn’t thought about it. It’s an odd feeling to have kids fledge. Why are they leaving so early? They are 18 and 15. Just tots. That question transported me to a sinking feeling I had after my second child was born.

It’ amazing how swiftly the mind can travel back 15 years. I remember standing in the middle of the living room fixing to have a meltdown. There I stood on that teal carpet with a two-year-old and a newborn. Suddenly a massive wave of overwhelm of raising kids slammed me. In response, the only thing I could think as I threw my head back in hysterics was, “I will never be able to go to Goodwill again.”

And now, before we know it, here I am. It’s 7a.m. and the last one is one bus. I can spend the day at Goodwill if I like. Yet somehow, I don’t want to. I’d rather go back to playing Thomas the Train and attending playdates. It happened all too quickly…