time flies (m)

Driving up to Vermont on Thursday afternoon.  I think my son is sleeping and I am just plowing ahead on I-89 with farms and cows everwhere I look.  It is a beautiful Fall day in New England.  Vermont is picture-perfect.

All of a sudden, Harrison speaks.  "I love these long drives with you".  You do? I ask. "Yes, you usually get lost and it becomes an adventure.  Remember when we missed the George Washington Bridge last summer on the way to Delaware?" I will never forget it, I say.   We were hopelessly lost and I attempted to throw an apple out the window in frustration but instead  it hit the inside of the car, ricocheted off and hit me back.  He could not stop laughing when that happened.

 Then he says: "You know, it seems that when I was young, I felt as though I was a little kid for a really long time, but now it seems as though time is flying by."

I can't speak or else he'll know I'm about to cry.  I say nothing.  Then he says: "I'm glad you're losing weight so I get to keep you for a lot longer."

I vow to stick to this diet.