The last few weeks, I have been having an age crisis.
My niece just turned eighteen, the very same one I taught in Nursery at church. The very same one who, when she was a year old, I remember pushing her in a shopping cart, when she rubbed her sweet little hand over mine. Her skin was so impossibly soft, that the moment left an indelible impression on me.
Next, my son will be turning twelve on Friday. How in the world did that happen? Add greater significance to that, my youngest child just turned six, which means he only has twelve years until he’s eighteen. And though I know one never stops being a parent, this month marks the technical mid-point of raising my children.
Then of course, yesterday was Valentine’s Day. And I was feeling very thirty-six, and very single.