My two boys, on the streets of Aix en Provence, France, where we spent the year in 2025.
I could not see it,
unconscious to the change,
the methodical ticking of time,
your body keeping pace,
so clearly growing,
just as you should,
comically obvious
with new shoes every four months,
it was always right there,
under my nose,
far from abrupt,
clear as a bluebird day.
But it hadn’t hit me,
until I hugged you,
your head at my chin,
and my mind wandered,
digging deep,
parsing through days and weeks gone by,
to recall the last time
I had picked you up and held you in my arms.
You were my first,
my oldest,
my OG
babyyyy!
Now, far from the baby I once nursed,
from the toddler I painstakingly kept safe,
you are
big.
You are capable,
you are smart,
you get dressed on your own and take showers without guidance,
you pull on your shin guards and tie up your cleats,
you zip your own jacket and adjust your own hats,
you can sit in a car without a booster,
and fall asleep without a bevy of check-ins,
you can make an Eggo waffle in the toaster,
and microwave a hot dog.
You can calm down before throwing something across the room,
you can apologize with sincerity after doing something you know was wrong,
you can do math in your head and play chess with your classmates,
you can juggle a soccer ball better than me and ski any black diamond there is,
you can read my frustration and know when you’ve pushed too far,
you can bike the neighborhood freely and order your ice cream without my assist.
You have a sweetness about you that everyone can see,
but only I know how truly sweet you are,
because I have always been able to pick you up and hold you tight,
know how much you care and feel for others,
privy to your fears and understanding of your tears.
For so long,
your little body
though no longer inside of me,
was still attached,
from time to time,
together moving,
a part of mine,
because you were small.
But suddenly I see,
how big you are,
my eyes are open
to this change,
though our hearts are still in sync,
our bodies have since detached.
With a teary smile,
I register the shift,
mark it in my heart,
as little by little,
you up and go,
no longer in need of a carry,
a piggie or a ride from me,
I know it’s good,
I know it’s life,
and yet,
and yet,
my eyes still wet.
Love,Lindsay