growing up too fast

The 14-year-old started high school today, and I am absolutely spiraling about it. Where on earth did the time go? I swear it was just 1998 and Jon and I were in Yahoo chat rooms talking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and now we have teenagers and young adults navigating the world. Co-parenting with Jon has been surprisingly civil lately. He dropped off the boys’ new school supplies yesterday, and for a fleeting moment, we didn’t argue or have that terrible heavy tension from the 2019 divorce hanging over us. He actually complimented my vintage 1930s reproduction blouse. It caught me entirely off guard. But then the 20-year-old came bounding into the room complaining about his college schedule, and the moment broke. I spent the rest of the day cleaning out the closets and donating a bunch of clothes. I kept all my black velvet and lace, obviously, because a goth never truly changes her stripes, but I let go of a lot of baggage. It feels good to clear out the old, even if my joints are screaming at me from all the bending and lifting.