On the Saturday nights I have my son, it is a ritual of ours for me to leave a note for him on the kitchen table and to go upstairs (before leaving early for work on Sunday morning) to kiss and hug him goodbye--as he goes to his Dad's on Sunday before I come home from work.
I lumbered upstairs at 5 this morning to hug and kiss my sleepy boy goodbye.
There in the soft glow of the animal lamp beside his bed he lay sleeping. He was curled up with his arms wrapped around his battered stuffed cat, Butterscotch...and for a moment I saw the little boy that has all but disappeared inside a rapidly growing teenage body.
I felt my breath hitch. I was running behind on heading out to work but I stayed for an extra moment and just breathed in the sight of him.
I slunk quickly downstairs and grabbed Chanda then crept back upstairs and captured the moment with a quick flash of Chanda's eye.
He stirred and I quickly hid Chanda behind my back. He is in the stage of hating having his picture taken--but my Mom's job is to capture his childhood.
This is the last week of his 12th year of life. He turns 13 in a week. An official teenager.
He stresses me out. He gives me grey hair. He makes me spew Mother phrases at him that I swore I would never use...
But. Dear God. I love this boy. With every cell in my being.
7 years ago