A few days ago, a man walked into my house.
He was driving my son’s car, wearing my son’s clothes. He even called me mom. But I’d never seen this man before.
He bore a faint resemblance to the son I dropped off at college a few months ago. But so much about him was different that I had to pause to take it all in.
He stood taller. His voice seemed deeper. He moved with a new confidence. He spoke of things I knew nothing of. He introduced me to a friend I had never met. He told me of travels and new experiences.
I watched him interact patiently with his little brother, the one who had been such a nuisance a short time ago. I heard him talk with his older brother, the chasm between them in the past gone.
I whispered to myself, “Roots and wings.”
And I stood there, rapt in the warm breeze created by his flight.