Dear Asher,
It’s your birthday and you’re all sprints to the front door to see if the mail has come and manic checking and rechecking of your birthday party guest list. You seem unchanged from yesterday, the day you were 7. The same boy but turned up to cake!
Am I the only one who knows?
Today is the day that we enter the middle. I can feel the shift in my solar plexus, in the ragged rhythmns of my breath as I write this trying to choke back my mama drama. But my throat constricts and the tears well up because somehow I know you went to bed a child and woke up a boy.
You’re 8 years old today, no longer at the beginning of your time with me, of your time as a child. Today, you enter that precarious median in the road where many are navigating their ways from one side of life to the other. And your blinker is on, signaling your intention to continue your journey, to become a grown man one day, whether I want you to or not.
I’m starting to see what kind of man you’ll be, with your sweetness, your kindness, your smarts and your creativity. I wonder how many people will be surprised and charmed by your sly, mischievous streak as it sneaks up on them even in the most serious of times? Someday a girl will throw back her head and laugh after one of those remarks and maybe, just maybe you’ll want to bring her home to your mother.
Eight years you’ve been with me. The baby books and photo albums are proof. Sometimes it seemed like time was going slowly but today? Today it feels like a flashbulb went off and here we are, in the middle.
Eight more years and you’ll be looking at colleges, preparing to wave at us with the window rolled down and then give us a mere glance in the rearview mirror as you pull away. That won’t be the end for you. In so many ways, it’ll be just the beginning.
But it’ll be the end of my having you in my nest everyday, of me having my finger on your pulse, of mom being able to just look at you and know something is wrong no matter what you say. It’ll signal the end of your childhood.
Dear 8 year old: I love the person that you are. I celebrate your uniqueness, your bravery, your spirit and your squishy heart. Happy birthday to my handsome boy who’s quickly turning into the Coast rat his dad and I wanted when we moved back to Mobile. You with your bare feet, your fishing pole, the table covered in lego creations from your own mind, those arresting blue eyes. You with your disdain for wearing clothes around the house, your love for books, the constant battles with your little brother, your unequivocal love for your mama. Welcome to the middle. Try to slow down just a little and I promise I will try to do the same.
Beautiful kid, beautiful Mom. Happy 8th, Asher!
I know exactly what you mean. When Avery turned 8 this summer, it was like I could see the young woman inside her start to glow. I could see her becoming. And she was no longer my baby. Had to choke back my own mama drama when I read this! Miss you guys!
Miss you too! I’m so thankful for the existence of Facebook though because at least I still get to see your faces and watch Avery grow!