My mom laughs. “See, but you’re not a parent yet, so you can’t understand. It’s like—you have this baby, and eventually, he starts doing stuff. And I used to be able to see every tiny change, and it was so fascinating.” She smiles sadly. “And now I’m missing stuff. The little things. And it’s hard to let go of that.” “But I’m seventeen. Don’t you think I’m supposed to be changing?” “Of course you are. And I love it. It’s the most exciting time,” she says. She squeezes the end of my foot. “I’m just saying I wish I could still watch it all unfold.”
