Recovery drink....

I’ve given in and write this with Le Tour on in the background and the other commentary in my ear.

Five weeks has flown by fast. Too fast.

The boy child is home now and getting on with his normal routine. His “room” is packed up and linen waiting to be washed. The refrigerator and pantry is empty. His toothbrush lies in its glass in the bathroom, along with the toothpaste. Remnants of the adolescent whirlwind that came and went like Cyclone Phet.

Adolescence is a term I must file away. He’s now somewhere further along the continuum. A young man with likes and dislikes, with opinions and desires.

Perspective. Always a useful word for me. It’s one that counts now. It’s the word I draw on to understand this young man’s land.

This time of life is so hard. Learning and growing and understanding the rules of adult life. It’s a big realisation that after school the world is out there with yet another set of rules and ways to live by.

Becoming independent what does that mean? Another continuum of choice and ability. Making decisions, making mistakes and living with the consequences. Sometimes you are coasting down after a hill climb and sometimes you are picking out the gravel on the side of the road on your butt.

Sometimes you are in between, still wanting to be a little boy, and sometimes you just want to get out there and conquer the world.

I raise my glass to young people on this threshold it’s just another stage of the Tour de Life.