About 24 hours before the first day of spring I stepped out of our building into a beautiful winter wonderland.  I was headed to my book club with a smile on my face and felt that familiar feeling of walking through Bedford Falls on Christmas Eve.  Those ten or so blocks to my friend Nancy’s cozy apartment reminded me of all the reasons I’ve loved this little neighborhood in this huge city, and for a split second I questioned all our plans to pack up and leave in 108 days.

Of course the next day the snow had turned to freezing rain, the kind that soaks through your waterproof boots and hits your face like extra sharp nails.  I was back on track to bid New York adieu.

The next week was spring break and I took Huck to one of his all time favorite places, the Hall of Science in Queens.  During the very long subway ride I thought about the many, many visits to this place over the last few years.  Like everything nowadays, this time felt different, what with it being near our last and also Huck is so much smarter than me now.  He understands all the optical illusions and scientific displays and explains things to me more than I explain things to him. The circle of life and all that.

So before we really got going with our exploration I made him accompany me to the bathroom.  He’s at that age they call “middle childhood,” much like I’m at that age they call “middle age,” and I’m having a hard time deciding what I’m supposed to do now that he’s getting so tall and old and smart.  Does he come into the ladies’ room with me or do I make him stand in the crowded museum and get kidnapped?  Apparently I decided I’d better bring him with me, because that’s what I did.  Less than one second later, a woman saw me and my boy in the girls’ bathroom and did not like what she saw.  She must not have had time to make a good decision either, because she immediately performed a spot-on impersonation of a terrible New Yorker, the kind that soaks through your waterproof rain boots and hits your face like extra sharp nails.  I tried to explain my unique situation, but she said I should have thought of that and brought a male companion along.  I wasn’t sure that was the best advice I’d ever heard, so I held onto Huck and we took the world’s longest walk to the toilet stall, where I shoved him in and locked the door behind us like we were running from the cops.  She kept yelling at us through the stall until finally there was silence.

I did my business and washed my hands in the now empty bathroom, and we slowly made our exit.  There she was a few feet outside the bathroom with her large group of children and chaperones.  As we walked by her she hissed the word “SICK!” loudly into my ear, so I did what any mature, responsible adult would do.  I reported her bathroom harassment to the nearest security guard and spent the rest of the day terrified to see her again.

The whole thing was a ridiculous reminder of why it’s good to treat others respectfully, because it feels so awful when people don’t.  It was also an absurd reminder of how sensitive I’ve become to the eccentricities of this city and its people who are all out to get me.  And lastly, it was a heartbreaking reminder of how much things change when your baby grows up and gets closer and closer to being a young man.

We three are smack dab in the middle of Change.  The season is slowly, painfully trying to change, leaving us unsure whether to wear our warmest winter gear or flip flops.  Our church building is beginning a huge renovation project which means we now work a few blocks away in the basement of an episcopal church right across the street from the George Washington Bus Terminal, leaving us unsure how to work the printer and where to find paper clips.  And now we’re officially at that moment in time where every big event carries with it the all-important phrase “the last,” leaving me unsure if I took enough pictures and appreciated everything enough.  Of course all of this change leads to something beautiful: spring, a new and improved church building, and Fayetteville.

Back when I was pregnant our friend Michael was showing me some of his latest drawings, and one of them reminded me of Troy.  He was experiencing anxiety about fatherhood and this new life we could barely imagine, and so the image of an old man looking up at the stars with a hint of anticipation on his weary face seemed to capture Troy perfectly.  At our baby shower a few months later Michael gave us the drawing, and it’s been on our bedroom wall ever since.

I think I feel like that old man most of all.