Yesterday was a very hot day at school. I was aware all day of how the heat slows us down, if we are allowed and allow ourselves.

Last night on our way home, we stopped for iced coffee at our favorite place, which gave me energy to be productive late into the night.

My daughter and I slept with open windows and fans. My son and I installed his AC, removed the flannel sheets from his bed, at last.

This morning I woke up late, spent awhile with the open windows and my dreams, eased into the day. It’s past noon and my daughter is in the shower. My son and I are at the kitchen table, both on our computers, toast crumbs on the plates, tea cooling to room temperature in our handmade mugs.

The weekend ahead is full only of plans for small things, laundry, packing for the kids’ week long camping trip with school, replacing storms with screens, Quaker Meeting if I am ambitious, book club after a many month hiatus, held at Walden Pond if the group takes my suggestion, at 5 pm on Sunday night, grocery shopping at some point if I gather steam, or not, if I choose to postpone til Monday morning, which I might.

My older son and his gal are house sitting for his dad the next two weeks, have been there all week with him in between weeks one and two and three of his being away, first for work, then on vacation. Our life is like this now, whole weeks and months when I don’t see my older son, whole hours and days and weeks when I don’t see my younger two.

Soon, as my daughter teased last night, she’ll move out, too, and live on her own. She said it with verve, as though she can’t wait, in the same long, languid conversation we had in the kitchen and on the back porch in the heat of the evening, during which she also told me about packing up all her toys at her dad’s house, and we thought of how that might happen here, who might like the collection of Littlest Petshop and other toys to which she no longer has an attachment.

Earlier in the evening we had joked about our “five person housing situation”, a variation on a joke from the first new episode of Arrested Development, in which Michael, the middle aged single father, moves into his son’s dorm room and is soon ousted from what he later refers to as his “four person housing situation.”

Fortunately, I haven’t stooped that low. I still have my home and the kids can’t kick me out.  But the shift is here, the children becoming independent, moving toward adulthood, the mom living gradually without the kids. I’m caught a bit off guard, was not expecting this so soon.  It’s good to have a warm and quiet day to absorb another phase of change.