48 HOURS IN HOUSTON

Visiting home is always a sweet feeling that places me in the hands of nostalgia. There’s something that feels good about seeing familiar streets and buildings. As soon as we get into the city, the feeling of home seeps into our hearts. There’s a sense of safety and remembering things you forgot about. Even the air just feels and smells different. The sound of the traffic and city bustle is like no other.
Saturday morning Phoenix had his first haircut appointment. The barber who cut his hair was also Troys’ adolescent barber. I’ve wanted Phoenix to have a proper cut for months, but his dad insisted that it had to be done by someone special. We waited until we traveled home to schedule his cut. Even though I was the one who pushed for it, I was on edge when it was time to go down. The barber seemed really comfortable, like he had done this a thousand times, which made me more comfortable. I was afraid that Phoenix would squirm and ruin his haircut, but he didn’t. He sat still and smiled and laughed as the barber cut and trimmed his hair. It was like he knew this was his special moment. I was the mom in the shop taking pictures and videos of the entire thing.

My baby is growing up.