Drove the cub to school this morning. Not for precipitation’s sake, nor lack of suitable temperature. No, he just let his hibernation hang on a few minutes too long.

Came home to a garage full of raking morning light and the cub’s trusty steed left stationary in its stall. I don’t begrudge him the ride to school; not in the least. The chances for me to provide that particular sort of motherly love are dwindling fast. It’s a joy more than a chore—don’t tell him that, of course. I treasure our morning conversations. Neither of us are distracted by friends, electronics, work, the web, etc. and the burdens of the day haven’t tainted our moods. We talk about the future, we talk about the present, we talk philosophy and politics - and most every morning, we laugh.

A few more weeks and he’ll be seventeen. A year and he’ll be almost off to college. No more rides to school, no more morning chats.

But for now, the spring is cheerful and I can still say “oh, I’ll drive you, honey” and we can laugh as much as we want.