Today my oldest son turns eighteen.
I’m sure that in his mind,
(as it was in mine),
He’s a man.
And in many ways, he is.
But in so many others,
He’ll always be that tiny baby that made me sob with joy;
His huge purple-blue eyes opening up to look at me;
His little legs flexing as he squirmed in my arms,
Trying to get used to this new, bright, loud world.
He’ll always be the chunky little baby in his carrier;
Tucked under my coat as protection against the cold Pittsburgh winds,
As we dash down the street to a Kenny Roger’s for dinner.
He’ll always be that solid, stocky little guy taking those first steps towards me,
His face lit up with amazement and pride.
He’ll always be the sleepy little guy snuggling against my neck,
Between the car and the house on Christmas night,
Worn out from presents and family and food and joy.
He’ll always be;
Giggling as he rides on my back like a cowboy and horse.
Wide eyed and laughing as he discovers Daddy’s not holding on to his bike anymore.
Looking up at me eyes welling with tears over a bump,
A scrape,
A cut.
Helping him grow has sometimes been a challenge.
Times when he had to test his limits.
Times when he had to test mine.
He’s brought me to the extremes of emotion;
Anger so dark I had to send him away from me for a while,
Frustration so befuddling I had to walk away from him for a while,
And yet;
Love so strong it hurts my chest,
Pride so fierce I feel I need to cry out with it to the world:
This is my son.
I’m sure that in his mind,
(as it was in mine),
He’s a man.
And in many ways, he is.
But in so many others,
He’ll always be that tiny baby that made me sob with joy;
His huge purple-blue eyes opening up to look at me;
His little legs flexing as he squirmed in my arms,
Trying to get used to this new, bright, loud world.
He’ll always be the chunky little baby in his carrier;
Tucked under my coat as protection against the cold Pittsburgh winds,
As we dash down the street to a Kenny Roger’s for dinner.
He’ll always be that solid, stocky little guy taking those first steps towards me,
His face lit up with amazement and pride.
He’ll always be the sleepy little guy snuggling against my neck,
Between the car and the house on Christmas night,
Worn out from presents and family and food and joy.
He’ll always be;
Giggling as he rides on my back like a cowboy and horse.
Wide eyed and laughing as he discovers Daddy’s not holding on to his bike anymore.
Looking up at me eyes welling with tears over a bump,
A scrape,
A cut.
Helping him grow has sometimes been a challenge.
Times when he had to test his limits.
Times when he had to test mine.
He’s brought me to the extremes of emotion;
Anger so dark I had to send him away from me for a while,
Frustration so befuddling I had to walk away from him for a while,
And yet;
Love so strong it hurts my chest,
Pride so fierce I feel I need to cry out with it to the world:
This is my son.
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