growing up.

i drove down my old street yesterday. the one i grew up on. the one whose sidewalk cracks i memorized. the one i could walk blindfolded.

and i saw an old neighbor in their yard. i remembered her at 29 or 30. when she moved in with her two young girls and a boy in her womb. i remember being 6 and thinking she was beautiful and perfect. as i drove closer, i was, for some reason, shocked that she was a little more hunched over, a lot more gray and that her house had fallen slightly apart. i guess i expected time to have frozen. and for her yard to still butt perfectly up against a driveway with no cracks.

and then i stopped and looked at my hands on the steering wheel. and for the first time, i thought they looked just like my mom's hands - the way i remember them years ago. when i was in the backseat being driven to piano practice or to voice lessons.

and suddenly, out of nowhere, this deep sadness overtook me. i think maybe because i realized that i am now the one moving into the house. my parents are the ones who can, no longer, care for theirs. and this circle of life continues pushing forward and around and back to the place where we started and where it ends and where, for others, it changes form or color. and for me, where it looks so familiar, yet completely different, all at the same time.

so i'm trying to embrace it. but something about it is absolutely shredding my heart.