Thursday, July 23, 2009
The late afternoon sun had warmed her room. Tiptoeing quietly inside, I shut the door and curled up on the bed. The sound of her soft breathing was the only noise in the room, but to me, no symphony has sounded sweeter. I lay beside her, watching her dream her princess dreams, hesitant to wake her but knowing I must. One tiny perfect ringlet lay against her velvet cheek, and I thought, God did this. He gave me this girl. He saw the desires of my heart and entrusted this precious little person to me. He knew she was the piece that would make us complete. No other girl but her, no other family but us.
The leather of the couch was cool against our skin that evening. In his ever-deepening voice, he gave a play-by-play of the day spent at the water park with his friends. I so love this, this time with my boy, hearing about his friends and their antics. This tall, handsome young man is the same baby boy who once burrowed into the space between my neck and shoulder to take his rest. It's hard to reconcile this strong, bronzed, confident teenager with my toddler who thought Barney and his daddy were the greatest things ever. This person who will be a man in the eyes of the law in a few short years was, just a few short years ago, a sweet, cuddly little boy. He was my first, and for many moons, my only. He was the prototype, the one I got to practice mothering on, who helped me get my on-the-job training. As he pulls away from us in degrees, spreading his wings and gaining some independence, he will always be one of my greatest joys. No other boy but him, no other family but us.