There must have been something in the sunshine this morning, because I swear, when I saw him playing in that creek, he looked closer to ten than he does to five. In the blink of an eye I saw our little boy as a bigger boy, in the glint of the sun there, reflected in the water. I squinted for a second and even nudged Hank- look at him right there. Doesn't he look extra old today? His blue hat, long legs, shoes that would soon make a squishing sound when he climbed out of the water. The red canyon walls towered high up over our heads, the green trees at the very top reaching, stretching to grow and grow, and I thought of our child, and our other child, and how amazing it is to watch these little people become big.
From the moment Henry could talk it's been "I can do it," "I got this, Mommy," and "I don't need ANY help." And really, even before. He's always been a child who knew what he wanted and that HE wanted to be the one to do it. Our fiercely independent boy, our sweet, eager learner, a child who has always desired to be on his own.
I can remember the first day of preschool, I stood there with tears in my eyes, holding it together, trying not to cry. These types of milestones always make me extra weepy, and as I tried to keep a brave smile on my face I realized that Henry had already run off to join his new friends on the playground. He turned around once, flashed me that smile, and was gone in a blur, yelling "see you later, Mommy!"
And these little glimpses of Henry looking older have been happening more and more, until today down at the creek I realized that the glimpses weren't really glimpses anymore. This was our boy. Tall and grown and growing. Five in the fall, more than half my size. Baby no more.
So this morning my big-little boy and I sat on a rock and watched the creek rush by. He told me that when he grew up, he wanted to have 100 children of his own and live on a big farm with cows and chickens and goats, and be an astronaut whenever he could find the time. I asked if I could come help take care of all of his kids- I asked him if he would need anything at all. I expected him to say that he was good, that he could do it all on his own, but instead he leaned into me, grabbed my bigger hand in his little one, and said "oh yes, Mommy. I will always need you."
Like the trees on the canyon the boys will grow bigger and taller. The sun will shine and days will be good. The wind will blow and times will be hard. They will change and evolve into the boys, then the men, they are meant to be. But my hope is that they always remember that like that canyon below the roots of the tree, I am there for them- their base, their foundation, and no matter what, I am always, always there if they need me.
Being a mama, man. Emotional, beautiful stuff.
