It's strange, to watch someone else with your kids. To hear the different intonations, the patterns of speech, that you know the kids are so unfamiliar with, yet within a month will be as normal as mine.
It's strange, to hear someone say "Lilly, this is my serious face; I need you to listen to me," and watch Lilly stare, uncomprehending, because no one has ever said something like that to her.
It's strange, to explain daily life--here are the cups; here are the toothbrushes--as if it is all new and confusing, because it is.
It's strange, to know you're looking at a picture of the future, a future where you barely exist, a future where you hope the kids are thriving, a future you've inadvertently created.
It's strange, to say goodbye.