I'm off to spend a week with my Mom, working on projects around the house that she can no longer see to do. Each time I make these trips back to the ranch solo, I feel as though I immediately revert back to that awkward teenager. The "ahh, to be a kid again" sentiment doesn't apply to me, I guess. It's a strange phenomenon, vaulting back through the years. Things are certainly different now: Dad's gone (has been for almost 25 years), the animals are gone, and Mom's the one who needs care now; not the child. And yet, she still manages to wield that Mom-ness that has me flipping between "it's good to be back home" and a bad burst of back-talk.
I doubt I'm unique. I suspect most women go through this at one time or another. You tell me. I'm just saying it's weird, and I'm not wild about the feeling. On the flip side, though:
- I'll get a few days of digging through the old fabric stash. Who knows? Maybe I'll find some "vintage" stuff from my high school days. Ouch.
- I'll get to run Sophie all over the ranch (one of her favorite things on the planet).
- And I'll get to stare at this out the front window (one of my favorite things on the planet).