The door from the garage opens…
… and two young men fall into the house, dropping backpacks and discarding shoes. Not the noise, rather the sight startles me. Momentarily I think, “Who are these people?”
Our house is situated to offer a shortcut to the neighborhood from the local elementary school. During that past few years, it was not unusual for students to walk around or even through the house on their way home. A few knew us well enough to stop to use the bathroom and grab a snack or drink.
The boys are no longer in elementary school, though, so the traffic has vanished. Electing to attend an out of district high school, the boys drive themselves to school.
I knew the boys were due home.
But my mind jolts each time they walk past me.
The adorable short round Blue Boy is now a young man, albeit with bluish hair, almost as tall as his grandfather. Now in the third year of high school, he carries himself with the confidence of one well-adjusted. And yes, still adorable.
The sight of impish Mowgli, so named because of his tousled long blond mane, is even more startling. His sudden heightening combined with a complimentary haircut aged him beyond the one-year span of change. He may be taller than his grandfather now. We can’t keep up with his measurements. He moves as if trying to figure out how to manage his long limbs. He appears to appreciate having an older brother scouting the path to maturity.
These evolving young men…
… occupy the space in which I expect to see Blue Boy and Mowgli of four years ago. I absorb the sight, trying to burn it into my memory. The former memory will always be precious. But I know that this sight will also transform. I don’t want to forget any of it.