From womb, to stroller, to bicycle, to car, to college.

My younger son is perched on the edge of the home nest, only months before flying away to college.

I know these next few months will fly by. I know because my older son flew the nest three years ago.

But before I left home for the “last” time, I returned three times. With every return, re-adjustments were made, not on my part, but by my parents and younger sister.

I merely returned to my pre-leaving-home routine, though probably a little less than comfortable with having to check in and check out after being “on my own.”

I didn’t see the adjustments made by my parents— those changes so insignificant from my point of view— such as an extra person at their table, monetary additions to their budget, and an extra vehicle in their driveway.

Blindly and thanklessly, I went on with my life, little realizing that even though my mom and dad were glad to have me home again, they were learning the dance of having an “independent” child back in the fold.

Now I am dancing with my older son’s return home.

After attending college for three years, he played minor league baseball during the past summer and instructional league during the early fall. Now he is home until he leaves for spring training.

Not only am I learning the dance, my younger son, a baseball player in his own right, is learning it too. For three years he has been the man of the house with his bathroom, his couch, and his garage parking space.

But now he is sharing space in the bathroom, vying for equal time on the couch, and parking in the driveway (because his big brother has the newer vehicle and his mom has pulled rank).

Even though he is enjoying his big brother’s conversation and companionship, he is still learning to dance to a new tune.

And me? Well, I’m buying food to cook meals, wearing blinders to ignore clutter, and applying grace and mercy to maintain fellowship.

My washing machine and dryer, I pray, faileth not. Honestly, I’m also feeling left out of conversations between “just the guys” and left behind as they take off for the baseball field or wherever “just the guys” go.

But Ecclesiastes 3:1 tells us, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”

So just like baseball seasons have come and gone over the years, this time, too, shall pass.

This temporary season will end much too soon, so carpe diem.

The older son will be leaving for his next summer home. The younger son will be leaving for a college home. And I will be left behind with a de-cluttered home, a full refrigerator, and an idle washer and dryer, at least until the first college holiday or minor league break.

Pamela Casey Sutton teaches English at Union University in Jackson, Tenn., where she resides with her sons, Drew and Tyler. Drew, 20, was recently drafted by the Houston Astros.