As silly as it sounds, that visual is what keeps coming to mind tonight as I think about my oldest son and his life to this point. This washed over me as I helped him pack for a trip to L.A. He's headed there to celebrate a film he and friends made being accepted into the Hollyshorts Film Festival.
In the blink of an eye, he's practically grown. At 6'1, he towers over me. He's 17 going on 25, except for those rare moments when he's so vulnerable he seems 4 again.
The thing is, how did we get from 4 to 17 so fast? The void of any acceptable answer causes the breath to catch in my throat. Disbelief is the overwhelming feeling.
He was my firstborn, the baby whose tiny toes danced across my heart and in my dreams well before he finally arrived. He was the child who made me a mother, who showed me how the heart can grow so big that just when you think it will burst you find more room to love, who taught me more than I ever dreamed possible.
In those early years of his life, it was just the two of us during the days and we spent our time practically inseparable. He slept in our bed, I wore him in baby carriers, we played, we worked, we laughed, we grew.
If I stop long enough, I can remember the feel of his wispy blonde (yes, blonde) hair against my cheek as we read books and rocked to a rhythm all our own. I can remember the questions and observations he made from such an early age, and the sweet, squeaky baby voice he had.
He's always seen the world through a pair of eyes that amazes me. I foolishly forget that he's his own person, with his own opinion and oftentimes it's quite opposite of mine. It's a good thing. I'm glad he's that way, but I can't say it is always easy. This mom is a worrier.
Lately, though, my little buddy is doing something that is very hard to accept. He's growing up, and by up, I mean away. He doesn't need me like he used to and my 'smart' brain knows this is normal and good. My 'heart' brain though is grappling with my new place in his life.
As my first, we've always had the task of carving out our path. It hasn't always been a piece of cake, but we have managed well. Of all the milestones we've passed and overcome, for some reason, this one is exceedingly hard for me.
He is a model teenager by all accounts. He's smart (the proud Mama in me is going to tell you he scored a 34 on his ACT recently), he gets *most* of his work done, and he still talks to me and tells me he loves me. He handled my divorce with grace and has accepted a new step dad and two MORE brothers into his life. But increasingly he prefers his friends over his family and I miss him.
And that's it, plain and simple. I miss my boy. I miss the chubby fingers wrapped around mine, the cards with "I love you" scrawled across the front, the loose teeth, the skinned knees, the Santa lists, and the snuggles in bed on Sunday mornings.
I'm hoping those of you who are on this path, but a bit further down the road can enlighten me to the good things yet to come. I know our relationship is evolving and progressing and still growing into something just as beautiful and meaningful. I just can't see around that curve.
But, I can hope. Because I certainly can't capture a grain of sand and hold onto one moment in time. I also know I don't want the sand to ever stop either. It's just hard.
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