two full hands

November 9, 2015

My oldest turned 10 last week. Ten. For some reason, it feels like a significant milestone. He holds up two full hands now and I am amazed at their size…just a little shy of the same size as mine. And while his feet have always been huge, he is now slipping on my boots to run outside. This boy, on the verge of adolescence, who I held to my chest and feared to ever let go. Who lay his head on my shoulder and fell asleep against my skin with soft breaths tickling my neck. He is now beginning to spread his wings, in little increments, and I catch my breath at the amazement of it all. He spends a fair bit of time at his best friend’s house, down the road and he comes home saying things like “Sweeeeeet!” and “That’s so sick!”. I chuckle as he tries on these new phrases, seeing what fits who he is and what is subsequently discarded. He is growing so quickly, and the individual emerging from his childhood makes me feel so blessed.

Despite all the gradual shifts he is experiencing, he still looks first to me to share his joy. “Look, mama…watch.” Most times, I am eager to admire his art, or his books, or his biking tricks. Some times, I have to remind myself how fleeting this whole mama gig is and pretty soon he won’t be looking to me first. So, I try and remember to pause, soak it all into my very soul…and let him shine as I watch on with my heart bursting with pride.

His birthing day was a beautiful sunshiney November day…with a little snow sprinkled along the mountain top ridge. It is always like this on his birthday and November has come to be one of my most favourite of months. All five of us celebrated his first decade with his favourite meals (waffles and bacon for breakfast, quesadillas for lunch, and pork ribs for dinner) and at his request, just hanging out on the farm. We gave him his first fly fishing rod and Papa was happy to give him some pointers before trying it out on our little pond.