And Then He Was 16

Dear Son, 

Hey bruh. It’s your birthday again. You’re officially old enough to operate a motor vehicle, only two years shy of being able to vote and before we know it, you’ll be old enough to buy me a nice bottle of rosé. (Make sure it’s French and dry.) Honestly, I’m a bit at a loss of what to tell you. As teenagers go, you’re a pretty good one. You make good grades, you only smell after football practice, you are always exactly where you say you are and sometimes you even text me ‘Kk’ instead of ‘k’ which I think is a sign of your love and devotion to me. You still say you love me and although you will deny it, Mama still slips from your lips instead of Mom from time to time.  I can still make you laugh even when you’re trying to be too cool and I’m not sure there’s a better face than the one you make when you’re smiling that trying not to laugh smile. What you lack in embracing these days, you make up for by nonstop tackling, body slamming and back jumping which I know are just camouflaged hugs. At least that’s what I tell myself. I wish you were a little nicer to your sister and that you always remembered to close the refrigerator but…with time I believe that both of these will come to fruition. 

As I write this, our fridge full of photos stares back at me. Plastered on its doors are years of our lives; colorful faces of all ages, of many generations, peeking back at us. There you are as a toddler; fresh with delight at being able to walk. There you are with your face stretched to boyhood, trespassing on our lifeguard tower with your sister, your faces glinting with mischief. There you are with your cousins, drunk with lake love and teenage idolization. There you are with your barely there boy face, squeezing the love out of your first dog. There you are in your first high school baseball uniform, looking very much like a young man. And now there you are, football uniform on, helmet at your hip, dreams behind your eyes and the man you will become jumping out at me, forcing me to see him. 

It’s a great privilege to witness your growth. It does not escape me that I have been so lucky to raise you and to be present for so many hours, days, weeks, months, years of your life. I can feel the clock winding down on our every day life together and while I know you must and will eventually leave me, I just want you to know that I would do it all over again. From the beginning, always. All the good parts, all the hard parts. 

I want to feel the weight of you on my hip, I want to bend down and catch your hug in both arms, I want to watch your eyes sparkle and shine at the wonder of seeing Santa for the first time. l want to sing to you in the car and take you to Yogurtland for lunch and read you Knuffle Bunny one too many times at bedtime. I want to slip in your room at night and and watch your chest move up and down as your eyelashes twitch with dreams. I want to play two touch in the alley and knock out at the park. I want to go to the beach and lie in the warm sand with your head on my belly, our faces sleepy with salt water and sun. I want to go to all the games, even the early ones, and take you trick or treating and lie down next to you for “just a few minutes, Mama” so you can fall asleep. I’ll take the tantrums, your legendary stubbornness and all those years of picky eating. I’ll take the endless, monotonous days of isolating young motherhood. I’ll take the heartache, the pain. I’d take it all over again, each day of it, if only I could.

Time is whiplash, my dear boy. It shows no mercy, spares not one of us. I never feel ready for the next chapter, the next part, but it keeps happening so I’ll just keep hanging on tight, even though my grip is slipping, my fingers seemingly slick with butter as they slide off your hands. Together we will maneuver this teenage landscape filled with potholes and hilltops; with silence so deafening it pierces the heart, with joy so full it pieces it together again. Every day with you is a better day. Even when you're chasing me down the hall trying to jump on my back.

Baby mine, I love you endlessly.
Happy 16th Birthday.
Love,
Mama