Happy Birthday part two

My son turned eleven this weekend. A different shock than my daughter turning sixteen. He is on the other end of it. In another state of mind. My youngest being eleven is as crazy as my oldest being sixteen.

We had a small party for him at our house. Nothing fancy, as he is not. Boys running and jumping and wrestling. Guns and knives and play fighting.

He has shown me something I would never have seen. If he were not here. I am happy to be able to share a boy’s life. I find myself staring at him. He catches me. “What?” And I just say ” I love you.” “Oh, okay.”

I will always remember a day he was about four or five. He came to me with a book in his hands. “Mom, can you read this to me?” I pick him up. Sit him on my lap.

I remember this day because I made myself take a mental picture. Because I knew one day he would grow and I would want to remember this forever. This beautiful, wonderful, heart melting moment.

The weight of him. His hand on my wrist. Him, watching the pages as I read. His smell.

This memory is mine. Locked inside me with detailed intricacy. Forever. Mine.

I am part of this life. To say I am grateful is not enough. The worlds of love and joy he has shown me. The privilege I have to help him and teach him and learn about him.

His gentle soul. His sweet demeanor. His heart on his sleeve.

Thank you.

Happy Birthday.

I love you.

Dea Lorea


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