Snow, Sons

Snow this morning.  A fresh layer of snow always signifies something new for me.  A new page.  Another narrative on top of something else.  A brightness, hope.  

I have been taking care of my stepson this week while his father is away.  He is a teenager, and I've been living with his dad for two years so it's not like we are strangers, but the fact that I am now his stepmother has changed things somewhat, though I don't think either of us understands yet how.  But it's all good, so far.  We're slowly becoming closer, as close as a 17 year old boy will ever let you get.  I'm a little gun-shy with adolescent boys because my own son, now 24, and I had a tough time of it when he was a teenager.  I don't think I have any more disciplinary genes left in me.  I am glad not to be the primary parent.  

My own son visited two weeks ago for the wedding, and I was very happy to see him.  After a long time of estrangement, we are also getting closer.  One of my two fondest memories of the wedding reception was dancing, first with Teake and secondly with Gray, and I've been thinking about using the framework of the dance to write a poem.