I'm standing in front of the school, waiting for the bell to ring and children stream out the doors. Other parents wait too, some fathers but mostly mothers. Although many are my age and some are younger, I feel like the youngest one here. I can't possibly be old enough to have a 10-year-old. I'm only 26, right? Or so I feel. But this boy is my family now, and his 13-year-old brother is, too. I went from single woman with an older boyfriend with kids to a sort-of step-mom overnight. I went from usually alone to a parent and domestic partner lickety-split. My life isn't just my own anymore. I was dragging my feet in the days before this move, afraid to give up my autonomy and my life space. But now, it feels nice. The stuff at work doesn't matter because I come home every night to a house full of beings who rely on me. Sure, I'm already tired of hearing my name called every 30 seconds, and I'll deeply need those quiet moments when I get home each day, before everyone else arrives. But life at home is now so much more important than the other stuff. I never was able to really imagine what it would be like to have a family, so it never seemed like a real thing that I might have someday. It will take some getting used to, but I can't imagine going back.
