"From your changing contentments,
what will you choose for to share?
Someday drawing you different,
may I be weaved in your hair"
- Iron and Wine, Love and Some Verses

Today I dedicated my run to my boy, J. Tomorrow he will be 14, and I am so sad to see his boyness slipping away. He is almost as tall as me now, and broke 100 on the scale for the first time the other day. But he is still all baby smooth skin and sharp angles, smattering of freckles, bruised elbows and scabbed knees. Saturday night we sat at opposite ends of the couch under blankets, our legs intertwined. Will we still sit that way when his beautiful boy feet are big and hairy? Every morning when I drop him at the bus stop I nearly burst with pride watching his lanky, confident saunter with his friends. He is a strong boy and a gentle soul. His thoughtfulness overwhelms me sometimes, like the day he put his shoes on and ran out to help me in the yard when he saw me struggling with a huge branch. Or when he insisted on helping me clean up Christmas even though I told him I didn't need help. For a shrinking number of days, he is still a boy to the world. But he will always be my boy. So these were my thoughts on my 3.5 mile melancholy run today.