I just went to take out the garbage, and just put on the the shoes closest to the front door – my not quite 12-year-old son Matthew’s flip flops. And they were too big.
Sometimes this is the kind of thing it takes to remind me that the role I cherish so much – as “mommy” to my two boys, is short-lived. I recently realized that once Matthew turns 12 late this summer, we will be 2/3 of the way finished with the 18 years will will have with him before he goes off to college.
And while I love watching him grow up, and love even more every day the person he is becoming, I’m sad to think that sooner rather than later, he’ll be the completely grown up version of who he is today.
I remember lying with Matthew in his bed when he was about 2, reading him a book, looking at his sweet face and hearing his little lispy voice, and wishing I could freeze that moment in time. And maybe, just a little bit, I did just that.
Somehow, remarkably, I am able to remember almost every day that annoying behavior is temporary, spills and messes can be cleaned up, and what we’re left with is this unbelievably pure, to-the-soul love that has completed who I am.
Love you so much, Matthew.