There's a strange man sleeping in the green wing-back recliner.  He is my younger son.  Tonight I met him again.   This time he is even more manly than when he was at home during Christmas break.

I remember the time my older son came home.  Again, that feeling of a strange man sleeping in my house.  The boys are so familiar.  They are steadily becoming these stranger, more manly, well, men!   It's odd to look at someone six foot nine, hairy and bearded or six foot seven and hairy and bearded and remember that they are basically the same collection of cells one pushed out into the world not so many years ago.  This is a strange way to feel about my children, I suppose.  Yet, even though they are still my children, they are so adult as to no longer have the word child apply to them.  It is strange, indeed.  Still, I am happy to have them here whenever they can be at home.

Blessings abound