While I’m writing this, I’m sitting at my parent’s summer home in a small shore community in Rhode Island waiting for my kids to come home and desperately trying to keep my eyes open.
It’s 9:30 p.m. and I’m well past ready for bed. But only one of my three kids is tucked in tight. The other three are off on their bikes in various locations around town. Adam, 12, went to the local ice cream joint with friends after the community’s weekly Bingo game, and who knows where he is now. I’ve texted him, but he hasn’t responded. I won’t worry for another half hour or so.
Lilly went to a friend’s house to watch a movie. She’s already texted to ask if she can stay out a little later than usual so she can see the end of the movie.
Maggie, 14, went off with her cousin and could be at any number of places. She and her friends have ended up at the beach most nights, hanging out, talking and checking out the stars. One day soon, I’ll have to worry about what exactly is going on aside from watching the stars. But I don’t think I have to worry yet. At least, I certainly hope not.
