I am having trouble sleeping again. I came out to the front room to read a bit and try to get a little nap in before the day must begin, but no luck. I did enjoy watching the dawn come. This room is on the west side of the house, so I didn't see the sun actually rise, but the light changed so slowly. At first it was a pale gray dimness. Then it was a little less gray and a little more blue. The shadows dispersed and what had been outlines of things to be were suddenly made visible in the morning light. It was so slow and yet so sudden. I thought this is how children are. Just like a dawning morning or the changing of one season to the next, children grow imperceptibly and all at once. You can't see the changes occuring until you close your eyes for a minute. Then when you look again you see how much they have progressed. I close my eyes and see my babies, see the looks on their faces, remember their funny words. And then I open my eyes and they are children about to embrace puberty. Especially in the ten year old, I see how he wants to be older, more in charge of his life and others, and I detect the clinging to his childhood, how he sometimes says "mommy" instead of "mom", the way he leans into me for a hug, the fight within himself to sit on my lap. Such subtle changes that you don't see them unless you close your eyes and then look again. A new day is dawning. Perhaps it has already.