parenthood Uncategorized

You owe me a hug, son

My older son turned 30 today. I looked in the mirror this morning and saw skin crisscrossed with lines that weren’t there yesterday, sections of my face and neck dragging and drooping that, I swear, just yesterday were smooth and, if not firm, at least firmER. I feel ancient, as if his turning this magical age (the age beyond which my generation couldn’t trust another) propelled me into the phase of  old croney-hood. The truth…

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