The twins gently inquired whether I would be willing to lower the hems on their school skirts. There are stipulations about the distance between their knees and the bottom of the fabric, and transgressions can lead to detention. For a fleeting second I thought I should nudge them to do it. They have after all been sewing with me for ages, and certainly are capable. Then I remembered how many things I cannot do for them. Help with homework in chemistry, Spanish, French or pre cal for one. Dancing for twelve hours a week for another. 

 

But skirts I can handle. 

 

Two years ago they were freshmen and the length was just fine. Hopefully they can squeak by with these ones for another year before passing them along. The new wearer will probably have to take the hems up, if she is an average height for a fourteen year old. But girls just shy of seventeen have longer legs. 

 

Growing is what happens when you look the other way. 

 

Part of me wants them to stay the same. To not move out. To wear puffed sleeves. To snuggle on the couch and watch movies with me. To tell me about their day, words spilling out between bites over dinner. To believe that I know what I'm talking about. 

 

But staying still never happens in nature, and God willing, not in our hearts. So bring me the skirts. I will weep over the thread as I let them down, and let you go.