Sunday, November 13, 2011

Time for a Change

There are a lot of signs that my son is growing up.  The grocery bill is getting  bigger.  As are his shoes.  His clothes will be fine until the day he suddenly can't fit into anything.  His voice is starting to deepen a little and there are those crazy mood swings that belong to people going through hormonal changes... be they pubescent children or menopausal women.  (Some days I feel sorry for my husband who's got one of each living in his house.)

He surpassed my shoe size a couple of months ago, and fairly often, I find myself back to back with him as he tries to figure out if he's gotten taller than me yet.  It's apparently a tantalizing goal that's been just out of reach, now by only a fraction of an inch.

As Mom, I've always looked out for him.  I wiped his nose, kissed his boo-boos, picked him up when fell down, and held his hand as we crossed the streets of our life together.

We went for a long walk today, just the two of us.  We walked down the big hill in our neighborhood to a busy street and crossed it to walk in the neighborhood I finished out my teen years in so long ago.  We walked and talked just like my dad and I used to do when I was a disgruntled teen.  He'd see me agonizing over something (as teenaged girls are wont to do) and tell me to put on my sneakers.  Then we'd walk up and down the hills of our neighborhood until the story came out and fatherly advice dispensed.  This usually happened at night and somehow the darkness made it so much easier to spill my heart out.

The sun was out and it was lovely cool today as the Boy and I walked.  We didn't really talk about anything heavy but just enjoyed the weather and each other's company.  Every once in a while, we'd hold hands for a few seconds - to cross a road or just to share being there together.  After we'd done that a few times, I noticed something odd.

When we held hands, my hand was in his.  Up until this day, his hand had always been in mine - the one that enfolds his and protects it - and him by extension - the one in front with its back to the world as the inside of it cradled my baby's small hand.  Today, without plan, my hand was in his.

This day came much sooner than I expected.

8 comments:

Knock knock - it's cancer! said...

Oh wow, my eyes are moist from having read that. As you know, my son is only a year younger so this hits particularly close to home.

I absolutely love how you wrote this post. Your hand in his - both literally and figuratively... beautiful.

It's a bit sad though, isn't it? I'm with you on that one.

Karmyn R said...

OH! I'm all teary eyed now....knowing that same day is coming sooner than I want too.

Bethany said...

Oh, I just teared up a little.

Sandy said...

Beautifully written! Now please excuse me while I go wipe the tears off of my face...

Melanie in Orygun said...

Oh, yeah. I know this feeling all too well. My sweet baby girl (who was just an infant the other day) now insists on being a gigantic 17-almost-18-year-old and carrying my bags of groceries for me. Also: insists on walking on the traffic side of the sidewalk to protect me these days. What the hell happened?
(((Hugs))) of understanding.

joanygee said...

How lovely to have such good times with your lad. Lots of memories to cherish. Thanks for sharing.

karisma said...

Beautiful words Sayre. I am a little teary. My Z has been a bit full on lately, Mr attitude plus, but he also holds my hand in his or picks me up (yes picks me up) and hugs me. Oh dear. Our babies are growing up!!!!

Jill said...

made me sigh!