My dear sweet little boy,
You are fast-approaching 9 years old. Everyone I know tells me, “It goes by fast.” I wish it weren’t true. But it is. Time is flying, and you are growing up. But, you still want to snuggle. As you fell asleep with your head on my lap the other night, I stroked your hair. I whispered in your ear all the wonderful things about you. And I told you that you are the poem I was always meant to create.
But, really, you are writing it. You are this flesh and blood and muscle verse come to life. You leapt off of the page and became poetry in motion…bringing more rhymes into this world than any words I could ever string together.
Oh, how lucky I am.
Watching you fling yourself into this world head-strong is my favorite part of life right now.
Hearing you make-up songs when you think I am not listening lifts the corners of my mouth.
Feeling you slip your hand into mine, I want to hold on. Tightly.
But I know if I squeeze, you’ll let go. So I hold lightly.
I love you,